


The silhouette of a spider

by ValentineRunaway



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bisexual Male Character, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, First Time, Hostage Situations, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Mental Breakdown, My First Work in This Fandom, No actual self-harm happening, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker is Still Spider-Man, Peter is bisexual, Public Masturbation, Quentin Beck is just a normal dude, Quentin is nasty, Rimming, alternative universe, kind of?, stalker au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-07-23 18:53:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 52,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20013157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValentineRunaway/pseuds/ValentineRunaway
Summary: Quentin Beck works for the Daily Bugle, but realizes he is close to getting fired if he doesn't come up with a good story. In order to keep his job, he decides to go on a mission to take a perfect picture of Spider-Man himself and becomes obsessed with the hero in the progress. One night, Quentin Beck is lucky enough to see the hero unmask himself -- Only to realize Spider-Man is the handsome intern at his office called Peter Parker. Instead of revealing his identity, Quentin grows more interested in the young man. Maybe a little too interested.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heya, this is my first time writing about Marvel characters so please go easy on me! After seeing the new film, I just had to write something about these two. Some warnings:  
> \- Peter is 17 years old in this story, so the underage tag is there just in case  
> \- The story is about stalking, so obviously whatever relationship Peter and Quentin will have won't be perfectly healthy  
> \- The story is supposed to be a little dark  
> \- This story is simply a fantasy. I do not support or condone actual stalking or underage stuff (even though Peter is 17 and not an actual child).  
> \- I don't know how journalism works, I just went for it
> 
> If you agree to these terms, then ... have fun reading !

“Spider-Man, Spider-Man, does whatever a criminal can. That’s what I say! Heroes don’t wear masks, criminals do! Damn it, damn it, damn it.”

J. Jonah Jameson, the publisher of the Daily Bugle, was having another one of those days where he hated Spider-Man so much it made his hair turn grey. He was inside his office, reading a newspaper that was more famous than his own simply because it always included a story about Spider-Man and what amazing things he had done again. This time Spider-Man had stopped a burglar and blablabla. Jameson banged his desk a few times as he continued reading the story, eyes piercing to the picture of Spider-Man like he was looking for a fight with the masked hero. When his cigar was burned to the last cent, he spit it out and simply lit a new one between his lips.

Then he suddenly stood up, stomped out of his office and looked over his employees with a piercing gaze, before continuing his way over to one of the desks that was much more organized than the other ones.

“Quentin Beck!” he shouted. Quentin wasn’t at his desk. In fact, he was just entering the office with a load of papers and a few photos in his arms. Quentin always looked like he was in a hurry. His glasses were slightly tilted over his nose, his dark brown hair was standing up a little after a restless night, and his dull-colored flannel shirt wasn’t fully tucked under his pants. When Quentin saw his boss, his face went pale and he rushed over to his desk, greeting the fuming man with a smile despite not feeling like smiling.

“I want pictures of Spider-Man”, Jonah Jameson spat out loud and clear.

Quentin looked around a bit nervously. “Okay … But I thought you hated him.”

J. Jonah Jameson did hate Spider-Man. Everyone knew it. He was old fashioned and cranky. To him it was weird seeing someone in a Halloween costume saving the city and pretending to be the new Jesus. In fact, Jameson was sure Spider-Man was actually a criminal in disguise, secretly wanting to take over New York city. “I do hate him. But the other papers are in success for writing about that fool, and that’s why I want a story about him, too!” Jameson raised his voice again.

Quentin chuckled as he laid his paperwork down on his desk. “I don’t know if I’m best for the job. It’s hard to capture him when he is swinging from rooftop to another.”

Besides, Quentin specialized in writing stories, not photographing them.

Jameson slammed his hand down, causing the papers to stumble and fall all over the floor. “I don’t care how hard it is! If you want to keep your job, Quentin, I suggest you start being useful”, he said. Quentin just stared down at the papers on the floor, then raised his eyes back to his boss, lifting his glasses better over his nose. Now, Quentin Beck wasn’t alarmed by this kind of treatment. He was used to it after that one time he made an article with a few typos, or that time when he had over thousand photos but none of them were good enough to be published. Or that one time years ago when he spilled hot coffee over his boss. Quentin was used to being not very good at his job, but this was the first time Jameson had threatened to fire him. Now that was a bit scary.

Before Quentin could go down on his knees and pick up his papers, he shared some intense gazes with his boss. “You have grown a stubble”, Jameson commented.

“I have.”

Jameson’s eyes wandered somewhere else for a moment before returning over to Quentin. “Don’t shave it off, or you’ll get a baby face like his.”

Jameson gestured behind Quentin before walking back over to his office. Quentin looked over to his shoulder and saw their new intern, Peter Parker, holding at least six take-out coffees in his skinny hands, trying to give the right cup to its right owner. Quentin furrowed his brows a little. Of course Peter Parker had a baby face, he was only 17.

Poor Peter Parker. He worked at the Daily Bugle four times a week after school and he got paid so little. Apparently he wanted to help out his aunt by earning his own money, one way or another. In a way, Peter Parker had found the perfect place to work as an intern since he wanted to be a photographer and the Daily Bugle was one of the only places that accepted him in with pay and not college credit. Sadly, Peter Parker had turned into a damn coffee boy who got everyone’s order always a little wrong. He also cleaned up everyone's mess and was there just as a third arm, and not as an actual employee trying to get some work experience. Bit of a sad situation, but Peter didn’t complain. He always seemed grateful to be there. Always so cheerful no matter what.

When Peter had one last coffee to serve, he walked over to Quentin with a smile and placed it on his desk. “Black coffee with three sugars. Right?” he asked.

“Wrong, but I’ll drink it anyway”, Quentin laughed as he got down on his knees and started finally collecting the papers his boss had dropped. Peter Parker got down on his knees too and started to help him get the papers back in order. Now this is why Quentin liked Peter so much. He was eager to help others, even if they didn’t always appreciate the help. His coworkers probably caught the bad mood their boss always had and put it on poor Peter. Luckily, both Peter and Quentin seemed to be immune to Jameson's constant yelling.

“I guess boss isn’t feeling too bright today, either”, Peter joked and peeked over the desks over to his office. The said man was crumpling a whole newspaper into a large ball, then threw it at his window while cursing about how ‘Spider-Man was overrated’.

Quentin chuckled. “You sure you still wanna work here?”

“Of course. You make it fun”, Peter said, picked up the last papers and then put them neatly onto the desk, making sure they were as straight as possible. Quentin smiled at that. He liked keeping his desk so clean and organized that even his pen had to be right in the middle and perfectly straight. He was glad Peter noticed AND respected that.

“Ass kisser”, he smiled. With a few groans Quentin managed to get back on his feet and sat down onto his chair. Like an obedient dog, Peter stood next to him waiting for orders, or a permission to leave. Now the thing about Peter being an intern was interesting. J. Jonah Jameson didn’t want Peter around him too much so he had told him to just go and help whoever needed help. The other employees weren’t too interested to have a kid interrupt their work, so Peter had ended up following Quentin Beck, the only guy who had actually let Peter participate in his work. Quentin still remembered that one day he and Peter had witnessed a car accident, and he let Peter take a picture of it. The boy took so many pictures from so many angles, but hey, one of them made it to the paper. Thanks to Quentin for giving the kid such an opportunity, Peter had bought him donuts. Hey, being nice is apparently worth it. Quentin felt good being a guide for the kid, showing him how this stuff was done so maybe one day Peter Parker can take his place in this office, then take fucking Jameson’s place, too.

But if Peter was too polite to even sit down without having a permission, he wasn’t gonna get very far.

“Peter”, Quentin called out to him.

“What?”

“Sit your butt down.”

Peter looked around and saw an empty chair, and took it for himself. He moved it next to Quentin’s chair and took a seat, sitting with his back as straight as possible. Peter fixed his hair a little (for whatever reason) and straightened his shirt and hoodie, quietly commenting how he should maybe try to look more professional. Not like it mattered. This place had no dress code.

“So what’s the plan for today?” Peter asked. He flashed that perfect smile like someone was taking a picture of him and his hands rested over the desk. At least he seemed more relaxed now than a few weeks ago. When Peter first came here, he was so afraid to touch anything. He didn’t want to mess up or break anything. Now he had much more confidence in him.

“Just gonna edit some photos and read through some articles before passing them on to some other dickhead”, Quentin sipped from his cup of coffee. It wasn’t very good since it wasn’t what he ordered, but he was still gonna drink it just to make Peter happy.

Peter nodded, sighing a little about the boring schedule they were going to have. “What was boss yelling about earlier?”

“Just call him Jameson or something, ‘boss’ sounds weird”, Quentin said as he clicked away on his computer. “He wants me to get a picture of Spider-Man to prove my worth.”

“Oh.” Peter’s face seemed to go a little pale and his body stiffened up. “Why Spider-Man?”

“Because whenever a newspaper has a picture of Spider-Man on the front page, the sales are crazy. I guess Jameson is afraid his company is falling apart or something”, Quentin said. He wasn’t too excited about his new job assignment. First of all, he had to work under the pressure of maybe getting fired for sucking at this job. Second of all, it’s fucking Spider-Man. Getting a good picture of him was going to be difficult, maybe even impossible. Most of his pictures were fake anyway, just other people posing while wearing cheap costumes. But Quentin only needed one good picture of him and he would be praised like a God. Quentin cracked his knuckles. 

Spider-Man was going to be his top priority now. He was going to do everything to get a good picture of---

A flash made Quentin squint a little and he turned to Peter who was holding a camera. The kid smiled widely and looked at the photo he had just taken with Quentin’s own personal camera before showing it to him. It was a picture of Quentin’s side profile, his hand holding his chin up, one finger over his lips and eyes pierced to the computer screen. It was a pretty good picture considering the fact that the lightning in this office was dull. 

“Sorry”, Peter said as he turned off the camera and put it back down on the table. “I’ll focus on work now.”

Quentin smiled so widely his cheeks blushed a little red. He wasn’t sure why. “Good. Keep your eyes open, you still have a lot to learn.”

\---

Taking a good picture of a masked hero who could be anywhere in New York was a challenge nobody could beat. You had to be extremely lucky to even be that close to Spider-Man, a hero everyone loved. During the first day Quentin Beck had just aimlessly walked around the streets, colliding against other people when his eyes had been glued to the sky. He had tried his best to find Spider-Man, but that fucker was nowhere to be seen. After an unsuccessful day, Quentin was ready to just give up and leave his job himself. But once he got home, he started searching about Spider-Man, reading all the news about him, watching all the viral videos on Youtube. Apparently two years ago Spider-Man stopped a bank robbery, webbing up seven guys with guns for the police to arrest. That was impressive. Quentin should walk more to areas where possible crime would happen.

Quentin watched a viral video of Spider-Man that had spread around the whole internet. It was filmed with some cheap phone and it showed Spider-Man just walking down the street, greeting people, giving high fives to his fans, taking quick selfies before he would continue his trip. There were a lot of stories like this, and Quentin started to realize that not all days did Spider-Man save the city from small crime. He also showed his support for New York in other ways, like helping an old lady walk over the road or supporting local businesses by buying a snack from them.

Quentin’s eyes focused on a video of Spider-Man at a cash register, apparently arguing with the owner about something. The video showed Spider-Man offering money for the sandwich he was trying to buy, while the owner told him it was on the house. At the end, Spider-Man left his coins on the counter and then swung onto the closest rooftop, the girl filming him giggling loudly for witnessing her idol so closely. Quentin could feel his heart skip a beat as he recognized the store Spider-Man had visited. Well, New York had dozens of those stores, but now Quentin at least knew where to search for this hero. Now that he had some kind of a plan, he felt more confident.

The second and third day weren’t so successful either. No sign of Spider-Man, even if Quentin had tried to visit all the places he had been seen in. It was like searching for damn Big Foot, Quentin joked to himself multiple times a day. But it wasn’t so funny when his boss asked if he had any pictures to publish every goddamn day, only to leave with low grumbles about Quentin not providing anything for the company.

At least Peter Parker cheered him own, even playfully suggested Quentin to climb on a rooftop and just wait. And for a few days he actually did. But no Spider-Man came around. How unlucky.

Until after maybe a week later, when Quentin was walking down the street. It was late, the sun was setting down and coloring the sky strongly in colors of orange, pink and purple, a view straight out of a fairy tale. The streets were still busy because it was New York, after all. Quentin hadn't been paying attention when it happened.

It started off so suddenly Quentin almost yelped in surprise. People were pointing up at the sky and screaming _‘It’s Spider-Man’_ as the red suited hero swung past them while waving down at the crowd. The moment Quentin saw him, he took out his camera and snapped a picture. It was shaky and bad and rushed, and Quentin wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip past his fingers. So he ran. He started running after Spider-Man as fast as his legs allowed him. He didn’t pay attention to the traffic and even almost got hit, but he didn’t care. He needed to get at least one good picture.

He saw Spider-Man swing to the left, then disappear completely. Quentin slowed down as he entered an alleyway, completely out of breath, his legs feeling like they were going to give out any second now. Huffing strongly through his nose, Quentin kept his eyes on the sky and tried to see where the spider had went, but there was no sign of him. Damn it.

Then Quentin saw the fire escape stairs leading up to the roof. Maybe Spider-Man hadn't disappeared, he had just stopped moving. To hell with it. He slowly climped on top of this large green dumpster, then jumped up do he could reach the fire escape. His hands managed to grab onto something and he started pulling himself up. God, Quentin was so not build for this, but when he finally got back on his two feet, he started sprinting up the stairs, making sure not to look down. He wasn’t a fan of hights.

The fire escape stairs were shaky and clanking whenever Quentin took a step closer to the rooftop. He stopped once to catch his breath because his lungs felt like they were going to explode before rushing to the rooftop. Even the threat of falling down to his death didn't stop him from getting this picture.

The stairs didn’t lead straight to the roof. After passing multiple windows - and one lady who was confused seeing someone at the fire escape -, Quentin saw a ladder that could finally take him up to the roof. With his camera hanging from his neck, Quentin slowly climbed up, holding on tightly with his sweaty hands, and peeked onto the rooftop.

There wasn’t much to see there, obviously. Rooftops aren’t places people hang out at. Unless you were Spider-Man. To Quentin’s luck, Spider-Man was at the opposite side of the roof so he had a change to snap a picture and then leave quietly without being caught. 

Quentin moved slowly. He made sure he wasn’t going to fall off the ladder as he moved his camera to stay at the edge of the rooftop. He pressed a few buttons to turn it on, then propped himself so he could place his elbows against the edge and hold the camera with both of his hands. He was holding his breath like huffing out too strongly would make him fall down.

Spider-Man didn’t seem to notice him. In fact, it seemed like he was going through a backpack. Most likely his own. Maybe he always left it here so no one could steal it or something? What did he have in there? 

The hero picked out an obvious phone from his bag, pressed a few buttons before placing it against his ear. Quentin still seemed to be invisible as the hero stayed standing, gazing over the city view and the setting sun.

Then, he talked. His voice wasn't that deep. Quentin couldn’t quite figure out the words he was saying, and he didn’t care for now. His eyes were focusing on getting the perfect picture. 

He snapped a photo, click. Spider-Man didn’t seem to notice. In fact, he raised his voice like the connection was bad and whoever he was talking to couldn’t hear him. Quentin took another photo.

“Wait, give me a moment, I can’t hear shit with this mask on”, he heard the hero mutter to himself.

Spider-Man’s hand grabbed onto his mask and pulled it off in one smooth move, and then his phone was back against his ear. “Can you hear me now? Ah, I hear you better, too.”

Quentin snapped a photo, then looked at the hero with his own eyes.

His face went completely pale and his mouth locked open.

That’s Peter Parker. The intern he has been working with.

Spider-Man … No, Peter still didn’t seem to notice Quentin. He turned his back to the man and all Quentin could do was to take another picture. He was completely lost, but didn't know if he should leave quickly or say 'hello'. Peter continued talking, every now and then laughing and then he turned to look at the view again, still unaware someone was watching him.

Quentin zoomed in with his camera, then pressed a button to take one last picture. Then, as quietly as possible, he moved down the ladder. 

He didn’t stop going down until his feet hit the ground, and then Quentin literally fell down, taking a seat against the wall. He took deep breaths and blinked strongly, trying to understand if what he had witnessed was even real. His heart was going crazy and his legs were shaking like he had been flying for the first time.

When his mind was a bit clearer, he opened his camera again and looked through the pictures. One picture was when the mask was still on. A full body shot, publishable. But nothing exciting. The next picture was much more thrilling because you could see his identity. It really was Peter Parker. Spider-Man was really this mixture of shy, genious and funny mashed together onto a school kid. Quentin could recognize those eyes anywhere, those brown curls and that cheeky smile he always gave. That's him, no doubt.

One photo was of Peter’s back, showing off how fell he was build for a guy his age and how the suit didn’t even try to hide his muscles. Quentin’s eyes ended up staring at his buttocks for a long time before he checked the last photo.

Quentin was glad he had zoomed in. He had taken a perfect shot of Peter’s smiling face, the photo almost good enough to be published on the front cover of a magazine about men’s fashion, or something. Peter looked like a damn model with his perfect hair and skin. He was just so beautiful, and suddenly Quentin felt hot around his cheeks.

For a long time, he just sat there, thinking about what his next move should be. He sure as hell wasn’t going to show these photos to anyone, no matter how much money he would be paid. It was Peter. His friend. A damn kid who risked his life every day to keep New York save. Why would he expose a hero?

He didn’t know what to do. But the longer he looked at that photo of Peter Parker wearing that suit, Quentin’s need to print it out and frame it grew stronger. So he got up and started walking home, a weird crooked smile over his face as he imagined putting up these photos next to his bed.

Now he was very, very curious about Peter Parker.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments! Sorry that I'm kind of a slow writer, I'm lazy and sad lmao

Peter Parker had an extremely beautiful face. He was at that age where it was hard to say if the word ‘cute’ or ‘handsome’ would fit the young man better. He was a little bit of both. His skin seemed always so smooth and soft to touch, his dark brown eyes so easy to get lost into. His lips were quite nicely shaped and so was his whole damn face, from his forehead to his jawline. His hair was usually a mess, most likely because Peter was careless or because he didn't have time to brush it after he took of the mask. But his hair still managed to look good no matter what direction it was pointing at. Peter had a perfect amount of hair to get your fingers lost in and pull, just a little. 

Quentin really should get up. His alarm went off 10 minutes ago, but instead of getting ready for work he has been laying down, gazing at the wall by his bed. He had printed out all the photos and just framed them. Well, not framed them, more like taped them on the wall because Quentin was a little cheap. But something inside of him just told him to do it, and he was glad. It was nice to wake up and see Peter’s face the first thing in the morning. It wasn’t his actual face, but this was quite nice, too.

“Good morning, Spider-Man”, Quentin said before finally deciding to get up and get to work.

\--

One Wednesday, Quentin called off work and said he had something important to do related to his mother. Of course, that was one big fat lie. Quentin was going to visit a place he thought he would never step back into - Midtown High School.

If he remembered correctly, this was the school Peter went to. He had a memory of Peter introducing himself to everyone on his first day, telling them who he was, where he was coming from and what he was doing there. Peter Parker, Midtown High School, intern to get some work experience. How could he forget those facts? Quentin had almost written them down just so he could never forget them. Every piece of information about Peter Parker was necessary.

Quentin felt a little awkward as he stood by the school entrance, looking at the large building with multiple windows and one obvious entrance right in the middle. The building was a different color than he remembered. The school grounds were kept clean and well shaped. There were no swings or any kind of play equipment which made the yard look a little boring. There was a basketball hoop though, and tables to sit by. Times are changing and so are the school playgrounds.

He wasn't sure why he was here in the first place. He had seen Peter yesterday at his work, but only for a few minutes because Peter was helping out someone else who was doing more exciting stuff. Maybe that made him feel disconnected from the kid. Maybe that made Quentin Beck a little jealous. Quentin just needed his daily dose of Peter Parker and yesterday he didn't get enough of it, so here he was. He inhaled sharply, scratched the skin next to his thumb's nail almost so hard it bled, and then started stepping towards the entrance.

Quentin had went to the same school years ago. He hadn't been a very good student. He did his homework and passed well on tests, but Quentin also made a lot of mistakes and spend too much time in detention. Luckily Peter Parker seemed to be a brighter kid with a great future ahead of him.

The walls were a different color from the inside, too. In fact, everything inside seemed new. There were posters about clubs that wanted new members, then a sign that ordered students to put their phone away or it would be taken from them for the rest of the school day. Lockers were colored dark blue in this hallway, and next to one of them there was a trashcan that was already full of soda cans, unwanted school papers and someone's shoe. On top of one of the lockers there was a half-empty basketball and one locker was covered in stickers from the outside. Each classroom door he passed had a little window and a number of the room. It was quiet, which meant everybody was in class.

Quentin walked slowly through the halls, not sure how he could even find Peter. He didn't know Peter's school schedule. He wasn't sure if he was even in the right part of the building. As he was walking through the corridor, quickly peeking inside the classrooms to see if Peter was in there, Quentin was starting to regret this idea. This felt insane. It was really creepy that he was in school property, looking through the small window every door had into the classrooms where young students were focusing on their work. He should leave and wait outside for Peter.

But if he wanted to know how Spider-Man lived his casual days, then this place was the best place to start. And he had the need to see Peter _now._

Quentin turned right, then walked past a few other classrooms before stopping in front of a door that was oddly calling him. He stood there and listened for a while. The classroom was quiet expect from the noise of some video they were watching in the dark. Quentin peeked in and saw only a little bit of the screen, not enough to make out what they were watching. Hopefully something educational. And by 'educational' he meant something that was actually useful for the students to learn.

His eyes traveled over the students, some of their desks pulled together so they could whisper easily to their friends and giggle at their own jokes. Quentin tried to look quickly through the group of students while also trying to be invisible somehow, until --

He saw Peter.

He recognized that side profile immediately. Peter was almost falling asleep at his desk, his eyes blinking heavily, his chin slowly pressing closer against his chest. His friend whose name Quentin didn’t know shook Peter by his shoulder and the boy jumped up a little, smiling so widely his teeth were visible before turning his eyes back to the screen. Quentin's eyes followed Peter's hand rise up to the back of his neck, scratch his skin a little before running his hand through his hair and finally dropping it back down. 

Quentin smiled a little and pressed his palm against the door. He wanted to surprise Peter so bad. He wanted to open the door and just go and hug him, or at least wait until his class was over to do that. But he knew that would be weird. He had no excuse to be on school grounds. Peter would just be confused and see him as a freak, so that’s why he should leave, right now.

But Quentin couldn’t stop looking. He felt such weird things when he was looking at Peter Parker. Butterflies took over his stomach, sweat took over his body, his heart picked up its pace. Quentin swallowed nervously as he took out his phone. He made sure he had no flash on before pressing the phone close against the window and snapping multiple pictures. Without even checking if any of them were any good, Quentin buried his phone back into his pocket and continued gazing at Peter.

The most beautiful man he had ever seen with his own eyes also happened to be the savior of this city, the amazing Spider-Man. And Quentin would do anything to protect him and ---

“Hey! What are you doing?”

Quentin winced as the janitor had suddenly entered the hallway and was now looking at him, looking angry as old people usually do. Cold sweat dropped down his forehead, but despite panicking Quentin did his best to play it cool.

“Oh, nothing. Just waiting for my brother to come out”, Quentin quickly answered. That was the first excuse that came up to his head. He quickly looked into the classroom again to get one last glimpse of Peter before stepping back strongly. 

“Sorry. You shouldn’t be on school premises if you ain’t a student”, the janitor said. 

“I know, I know. It’s just a bit urgent. Our mom’s at the hospital”, Quentin lied, trying to get some pity so he would be allowed to stay, but the janitor just nodded to him, maybe silently saying _‘sorry to hear that, but you still can’t be here’_. Despite wanting to do so, Quentin knew he couldn’t stay by the door and just stare at Peter forever. He swallowed strongly and picked his phone up from his pocket. “I’ll go wait outside and just text my brother to come there.”

“You do that.”

Thankfully, the janitor didn’t find him suspicious and just continued his job while Quentin made his way back outside, his heart pounding faster than ever before.

\--

Quentin made his way back to work for a few hours before returning on school grounds at 1PM, deciding to wait until it was Peter’s time to go home. He waited for two hours and a bit more until Peter finally came out, surrounded by three other students who were most likely his friends. A girl with frizzy hair, an overweight boy who was looking down at his phone and a blond girl who was trying to get the boy’s attention. Quentin didn’t know their names. Peter had talked about his friend ‘Ned’, so Quentin assumed that was the boy’s name. But the girls were unknown.

Quentin followed them from afar, making sure Peter would get safely home. It was a difficult task to do since New York was a busy city and the streets were always filled with people, but Quentin was fast with his feet. He watched as the girls went their different ways first, then Ned turned to another direction as Peter went down to the subway. Quentin followed him. 

Quentin felt a little crazy as he stepped into the same subway train cart, keeping a lot of distance between him and Peter. The cart was full as it usually was and as it started moving, Peter sat down with his backpack placed onto his lap, his arms wrapped around it like he was protecting it. Quentin stood with his back turned over to the kid, but every now and then he would turn his head to look at him, peeking through the crowd of people. Most of the ride Peter was looking down at his phone. When he looked up, Quentin turned his face away so he wouldn’t be seen. He felt excited to be so close to Peter, and he wish he could be closer. Maybe one day the train cart will be so full he could stand right behind Peter and he wouldn't even know it. Maybe one day.

Once Peter got out, Quentin followed him with his head down, always keeping a good distance. He walked and walked and walked until finally Peter got home. The kid turned right, entered a multi-story building and disappeared inside. Quentin stayed outside and looked up at the tall building, hoping to be lucky enough to see Peter once more through one of the windows. But no such luck. Quentin walked around the building, trying to figure out what floor Peter lived in, but he realized he would have to go inside and find his front door in order to figure that out. Quentin decided to head back to work before he would be caught. He smiled the whole way home, feeling happy now that he knew where Peter lived. It was like they had grown closer to each other.

\--

During one lucky day when the sun was shining brighter than ever before, Spider-Man finally showed up. It was his usual daily activity to just swing around the city and wave at people. Everyone was looking up as Spider-Man swung past them and landed on top of a light pole, waving down from there. People were thrilled to see him, immediately asking for autographs and selfies. But it seemed like Spider-Man was only stopping by just to pose for pictures.

Quentin didn’t even waste a second to get a picture of him. He snapped a photo of the Spider-Man hanging upside down from the light pole, then another one when Spider-Man shot some of his web to another street light on the other side of the road and swung to it. Quentin looked down at his camera and quickly looked at the two photos he had just taken. One of them was too blurry. The other one was alright, but Quentin was too selfish and wanted better. 

He started crossing the road to get to the other side so he could get a better picture of the hero, but the sudden car honk scared him. When he looked to his left, he saw a car coming right at him.

Quentin didn’t even have the time to properly react when something sticky touched his back and he was pulled up, away from the busy street and the car that desperately wanted to run over him. He screamed a little in surprise until a hand wrapped itself around his waist. Despite being fucking terrified of what had happened, the hand around him was so, so comforting. For only a second was he swinging in the air until he suddenly stopped, finally brave enough to open his eyes.

“You alright, mister?” Peter Parker’s voice was as sweet as music to his ears. Quentin blinked a couple of times before he looked at the hero. Spider-Man’s left hand was holding Quentin close while his right hand was pointed up, a string of web attached to the edge of a rooftop, holding them up in the air. People were looking at them, some of them still gasping, but most of them clapping. Some phones were out, too, snapping pictures while they still could.

Peter Parker had just saved his life. It didn’t even matter Quentin had been stupid enough to not look where he was going and had almost hospitalized himself. Peter Parker had saved him. Now Quentin felt more connected to this kid than ever before.

One day, he would like to return the favor.

“I’m okay”, he managed to spit out after staring at the hero for too long. Peter was surprisingly strong. And flexible. His suit was magnificent, so well put together and so detailed. Spandex looked good on him and his well build body. Quentin felt himself grow a little hot.

Slow and steady, Spider-Man lowered them closer to the ground where people surrounded them, congratulating the hero for his amazing save, only one person caring enough to ask if Quentin was hurt. He wasn't hurt. He had never felt this good. Quentin gave himself a short moment to catch his breath and calm down his heart before he looked at the masked hero. Spider-Man was already taking a few selfies with some young teenagers before announcing he really should get going.

This was his moment. For weeks Quentin had been trying to find Spider-Man to have him pose as a model and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let this opportunity fall past his fingers. He gently tapped Spider-Man’s shoulder to get his attention.

“What’s up?”

God, that was such a Peter-thing to say.

“Uh, c-could I get a picture of you? I work for the Daily Bugle”, Quentin Beck said, smiling a little awkwardly. He wished he could see Peter’s face right now. 

“Sure!” the kid said. He laid his hand on Quentin’s shoulder and started pointing around. “Listen, I’m gonna go up there and then swing right past you, okay? Make it count!”

Quentin nodded and when the hero swung away, he changed the settings of his camera to be ready to snap a ton of pictures once Peter would move past him. He prepared his camera, looked for Spider-Man to show up and when he did, Quentin followed his movements with his camera. Spider-Man flew like a bird past him in the air, shot some web to the next high point and then swung further away. Quentin pressed his finger down as fast as he could, taking God knows how many photos in hopes of getting at least one good one.

When Peter was gone, Quentin leaned against the wall and started looking through the photos. So many of them were blurry, unfocused, just not good enough, but then Quentin started to get to the good ones where only the background was a bit smudgy, but the model itself was clear as the sky.

One picture stood out from the rest. It was mostly from Spider-Man’s backside, but his head was tilted a little over his shoulder like he was looking back at Quentin. His pose was dynamic like he was in a middle of a fight, and the background of the city was perfectly placed. It was like an album cover, or the cover of a comic book. Quentin smiled so widely his cheeks hurt.

Finally, he had pictures of Spider-Man.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm so slow at updating, I'm just s a d  
> Oh and this chapter has NSFW in it so yeet

Thanks to Peter’s -- er, Spider-Man’s help, Quentin Beck had taken a picture that was going to be published on the front page of the Daily Bugle. For the first time in his career, his boss Jameson had actually smiled and congratulated him on a ‘job well done’. Finally his day started off well, and not with Jameson yelling into his face about whatever was bothering him. Finally, he had the respect he deserved. Quentin felt the happiest he had ever been in this job and it was all thanks to Peter Parker.

The second Peter stepped into the office, Quentin quickly ran over to him and greeted him with a strong hug. He was feeling confident today, so he was going to make the most of it. Peter felt so soft, oddly small too despite being tall enough to rest his chin over Quentin's shoulder. Quentin closed his eyes and took a single second to just focus on the feeling of Peter pressed against him so tightly. “You have no idea what happened!” he smiled. 

“Woah, someone’s excited”, Peter chuckled but still hugged him back. Peter’s hold on him was so gentle he barely felt it. So different on the way he held onto Quentin when he saved his life. Not as strong as before, not as rough as then. It was sweet and loving almost, like Peter was holding back how strong he really was. Quentin squeezed just a little harder, trying to memorize how the kid felt pressed against his body, how small he suddenly felt under his hands, how _good_ he just felt in every way. He smelled Peter’s hair as quietly as he could -- Such a delicious scent. If it was acceptable, Quentin would just kiss Peter right here and now. But he was able to hold his desires back today.

Quentin pulled back and moved his hands over to Peter’s shoulders. “Jameson accepted one of my photos. It’s going to be published.”

“What? No way!” Peter laughed a little like he first didn’t believe what he was hearing. Sometimes, he was really good at pretending to be a normal guy with no secrets. But sometimes, his acting wasn't as good. Right now, he was wearing a smile that showed Peter was proud of himself. “What kind of a photo is it?”

Quentin grinned: “I got a pretty damn good picture of Spider-Man himself. I’m also going to write a short article on how he saved my life.”

“The hell did you do to need Spider-Man to help you out?” Peter asked.

“Didn’t look where I was going. Almost got hit by a car.”

Peter gave him that look that just yelled _‘please, be more careful, you idiot’_ , and all Quentin could do was just laugh. He walked over to his desk and turned to face the kid again as he let himself collapse onto his chair. “I was wondering … Would you like to help me edit some photos and get that article done?” Quentin asked, his fingers tapping against his desk. He was sweating a little. It felt like he was asking Peter on a date.

He hoped Peter also thought it was a date when his cheeks blushed a little redder and he said ‘yes’.

\--

It had become a habit of his to follow Peter home. Almost every day, whenever he could, he made sure Peter Parker made it safely home without any distractions. This day was just like any other.

After Peter’s work day was over, Quentin made the excuse of running a quick errand just to go and follow him. His boss always complained about it but let him go, and especially now that he had taken a good picture of Spider-Man, Jameson went much easier on him. And just like always, Quentin hid under a hat and a pair of glasses and followed the kid like an obedient dog following their owner. He got himself a ticket and stepped inside the subway train cart, just like always. This was an ordinary day.

But then, everything seemed to go downhill. Today was suddenly much busier than usually, or maybe right now it was just a rush hour going on. As Quentin stepped in, he realized how full the place was. No seats were available, no empty spots to stand at, and he had to literally squeeze himself inside, pushing past the crowd of people. And as he got in, more people came behind him, pushing him forward until he collided against somebody.

“Sorry”, he muttered quietly.

“It’s alright, sir”, came out a soft squeak as an answer. Quentin looked down at who he had bumped into, but all he saw was the back of someone’s head. And the familiar clothes that consisted of a grey jacket and a blue sweatshirt. Quentin looked in front of them where there was a pair of closed doors with windows, revealing his and everyone else’s reflection.

He swallowed.

He had bumped into Peter himself.

Quentin looked over his shoulder, noticing how the doors closed and the subway train started moving. There were people all around him, everyone pressed so close to each other that he couldn’t even turn around. He tried to get away, he did. But the cart was just far too crowded that he couldn’t even move his foot without accidentally stepping on someone’s toes. All he could do was stand still, suck his stomach in and hold onto the safety handle with his dear life.

Peter didn’t seem to notice him. Seen from the reflection of the window, Peter was looking down at his phone, selecting new music to listen to, completely unaware that a friend of his was right behind him. At least Quentin hoped he wasn’t yet noticed.

His heart was racing like hell. He was so close to Peter’s behind, and every now and then the subway cart would shake or turn even just a little, and everyone in it would lose their balance for a half a second and collide against each other. And --- God, Quentin isn’t sure, but it sure feels like that every time he accidentally touched Peter, his groin pressed against his sweet little round buttocks that he always loved to look at. 

This was bad, really bad. But at the same time the fear of being caught _\- and all those porn videos where some nasty guy was touching a random woman in a crowded train -_ made all of this so good. Quentin secretly wished this was a porn movie of some sort. He could just slip his hands around Peter and very, very quietly whisper dirty things into his ear, as his hands would touch him everywhere. He could rub Peter through his pants with a lot of pressure but little movement so hopefully nobody would notice. He would say such filthy things, maybe nibble at Peter's ear to make him whisper out a moan. And maybe Peter would happily grind against his crotch, making him --

Hard. Quentin was hard.

He shouldn’t be daydreaming about this stuff in public, especially when Peter himself was present. Quentin only allowed those thoughts to come in when he was at home because he so easily got lost into them. And when those daydreams were about Peter Parker, he got horny so damn easily it was embarrassing. He took a small step back, accidentally stepped on someone’s toes, then muttered a quick ‘sorry, sorry’ before returning to his original spot. Still no escape for him.

The subway train stopped, the doors opened, people got out. But then more people came in. Quentin was still far too close to his crush, and now that he was growing even harder in his pants, Peter noticing him was a growing danger. He did his best to lean back and hold his breath, keeping his head low and his erection hidden.

His eyes moved back to inspect Peter after their third stop. He noticed that Peter’s eyes were glued to his phone screen and his thumb kept pressing against the screen like he was writing a message. Quentin dared to lean forward just a little, hoping to see his texts. He couldn’t see much, expect the name “MJ”, which didn’t give him much to go on. He couldn’t see what the context of the messages was sadly, so he just leaned back to minding his own business.

Quentin was still hard. It was still too crowded in here. He was still too close to Peter. His anxiety was starting to kick in harder than ever before as he desperately waited for them to reach the next stop where Peter would step off.

Now that this was going to be over soon, he was starting to feel brave enough to do something risky. Quentin’s hand reached forward and ever so gently caressed Peter’s arm. Well, not his arm, just the sleeve of his jacket because his shaky hand only dared to press down very, very gently. He so badly wanted to touch Peter. Quentin sighed and then held in his breath as he pressed his fingers down a little more, just to get a small feeling of Peter under his fingers …

But then the subway stopped. The doors opened and Peter started forcing his way through the crowd to get out, not noticing that someone had tried to touch him. Quentin waited until the last second to jump out, too, needing to get some air. 

Peter was fast in his feet and was already gone when Quentin lifted his eyes back up. Despite knowing the way to his home by heart, Quentin decided to give up for today and find the nearest public bathroom. Eugh. He hated public spaces in the first places and bathrooms were the worst of them, but right now he didn’t have much of a choice. He hoped Peter would get home safely.

The closest toilet was next to some old coffee shop that was underground, sitting there with only a few customers who were waiting for their next ride. Quentin stepped inside and locked the door as fast as he could, feeling glad this wasn’t one of those bathrooms where there were multiple stalls. Nobody could hear him now. Hopefully.

He felt disgusting for doing this. But after being that close to Peter without him even knowing about it, the adrenaline was kicking in hard. He had memorized how the kid had smelled, how he had felt against his body even if he didn’t get to feel much. He memorized how Peter's ass had accidentally pressed against his groin a few times. He always memorized everything about Peter. Now everything was just too much to handle and Quentin needed to relieve himself.

As he leaned against the locked door his hands shakily moved over to his belt, unbuckling it. He lowered his pants down only a little, just enough for him to reach in and pull his cock out, and when the chilly air hit his skin he shivered. For a few seconds, he just had his hand wrapped around his cock, his eyes closed as he felt ashamed. Quentin felt nasty for doing this. He shouldn’t be doing this in a dirty bathroom.

But as always, Peter came to his rescue. Simply imagining Peter’s sweet little ass grinding against his hard cock gave him the courage to start touching himself. The contact was dry and rough, making Quentin press his teeth together and hiss through them, but he still kept going. There was no going back now.

His mind wandered over to Spider-Man’s ass, because that suit hid nothing. It was so pressed against his skin that it didn’t leave much to the imagination. And it made Peter's body look magnificent. Quentin bit down onto his lower lip as he stroked himself faster, gently rolling his hips against his hand, imagining he was grinding against Peter’s perfectly round bottom. God, just thinking about Peter made him feel all hot and sweaty, his abdomen sucking itself in, his heart beating stronger against his chest.

The moan he released was accidental, but luckily his hand smacked itself over his mouth almost on its own. He moved one of his fingers between his teeth and bit down onto the knuckle to keep himself quiet. He liked the pain. He liked it when it was rough. He wondered if Peter would scratch his back hard enough for it to bleed as he would bury his cock deep inside of him.

Jesus, he was already so close. His hand was stroking up and down on his cock as fast as his wrist allowed him to, his hips bucking forward like he was fucking the hell out of somebody. Quentin threw his head back, slamming it hard against the door. It hurt, but God, did it hurt so good. His glasses were almost falling off, his shirt felt sticky against his skin and his legs were trembling. He was getting so close, so close.

Peter seemed to come to his rescue again just when he was needed. Quentin imagined what Peter’s moans would sound like. Would he be quiet, or would he be screaming so loud the whole neighborhood heard him? Did he groan as he grew closer to an orgasm, or were his moans high pitched? God, Quentin hoped Peter had high pitched moans. He had the damn face for it.

Inside his imagination, Peter’s mouth opened wide and his eyes closed tightly. His eyebrows furrowed perfectly, gently curving up, giving him such an innocent look. His hair was a mess, some strands sticky against his forehead. His body was fit, but he still looked slim and skinny compared to Quentin's much wider body. Quentin didn't even have to think about what Peter looked naked. He focused on his facial features, how a drop of drool would drop down onto his chin, how his cheeks and the tips of his ears were flaming red, and how his eyes would be teary yet begging for more.

Then, Peter released the most softest yet sexiest moans that made Quentin's dick twitch.

_“A-ah, Quentin …!”_

That’s it. That’s the spot. Quentin started rolling his thumb over the head of his cock and rolled his hips forward, imagining he was fucking Peter’s mouth. Peter's mouth definitely felt warm and wet, and he was definitely the kind of slut who would moan against his flesh and stroke his tongue in circles, experimenting like this was the first time he was sucking a cock. And just like that Quentin was coming, huffing through his nose as white substance covered his hand, drops of it falling onto the floor. His knees clacked together when he overstimulated himself too much, and a low grunt escaped from his throat as he imagined Peter being the kind of guy who liked to tease. A damn brat, he was.

Quentin took a moment to himself, allowing his body to collect itself back together after his orgasm. He inhaled deeply a few times, then sighed. He was back to feeling disgusted by himself. For long minutes he just kind of stood there, holding his softening cock in his dirty hand, keeping his eyes closed so he didn’t have to witness the scene in front of him. When he was finally ready to face the reality, Quentin moved to wash his hands, then tuck himself back into his pants. He wiped the floor clean and made himself look presentable before heading out of the bathroom.

When he got home, he ended up going through all the photos he had of Peter so far, and his mind ended up imagining dirty things again. 

He wasn't sure how long he could hold himself back after that.


	4. Chapter 4

‘MJ’ stood for Michelle Jones. 

Quentin was glad that Peter Parker was still one of those teenagers who used Facebook, a dying social media platform that was taken over my adults with bad sense of humor. He wasn’t too active there, sadly. Most likely he had created the account years ago, posted all kinds of stuff until he decided that Facebook wasn't a place for the cool kids anymore and that other social media platforms were much more exciting. He must have kept his account up just for his aunt. Or maybe there were just too many memories he didn’t want to lose.

Quentin had went through all of his friends and everyone that went to same school with him. At some point the name ‘Michelle Jones’ had jumped up onto his screen with a familiar face. Frizzy hair, kind of a cold look in her eyes, never smiling. Last logged in three years ago, only a few photos up for people who weren't her friends. That’s the same girl that he has seen hang out with Peter.

Even if Peter barely used this account anymore, it seemed like he every now and then came back to share articles about Spider-Man, which wasn’t suspicious at all. The last time he actually posted something was almost a year ago, and it’s a selfie with all of his friends. That’s Ned in a different fedora than before, holding up a peace sign. There is of course Michelle, and a blond girl that is tagged as Betty without a link to her actual profile since she didn't have one. Peter looked so happy, and somehow much smaller than he did now. He looked more innocent, more vulnerable somehow. Now he looked like a kid who had been through some rough times during the past year. No wonder. It had been a busy year for Spider-Man.

It felt weird looking through Peter Parker’s old pictures. But at the same time, Quentin wanted to give a heart reaction to all of them just to show how much he cared about him. Yes, even when Peter’s face looked weird because someone had taken a bad picture of him and posted it without his consent. He would be lying if he didn’t save some of the newest photos into his phone and put one of his stupid selfies as the wallpaper. Now he could look at Peter whenever he opened his phone.

Since Peter isn’t active on Facebook, Quentin desperately tried to find any of his other social medias. But it seemed like he has kept his real name secret when it came to his other accounts. Maybe Peter wasn’t the kind of guy who posted that many selfies, anyway. He most likely had a private account where he could express himself fully without being afraid someone could link it to him.

After a long while of trying to find his other accounts, Quentin gave up and decided to just sit and stare at that group selfie for a while. Quentin Beck found himself angry. And he knew exactly why. He had seen Peter texting to this ‘MJ’ in the subway. He didn’t know what the two had talked about, but there was that fear that they were flirting with each other. Or even sexting. Quentin hated the idea of Peter dating someone else. As the thought of someone else having Peter Parker to themselves grew, the more jealous Quentin became. His nails started to dig down onto his thighs and he couldn’t help but bite down onto his lip.

His brows furrowed strongly the longer he stared at poor MJ's face.

He had to make sure this MJ wasn’t too interested in _his_ Peter Parker.

\--

It’s Friday. And just like any teenager during this day, they go out to have some fun and enjoy the start of the weekend. Quentin was no different. He also liked having fun on Fridays. His kind of fun was to follow Peter's every move and imagine they were spending the day together. The moment he saw Peter leaving the school grounds with all of his friends, he called work and used the excuse of being very sick, just so he could spend the day watching over his future lover. After all, he had to make sure Peter was safe and that no one was going to touch him. Jameson wasn't too happy with this, but gave in anyway. After all, Quentin was the one who brought in a perfect picture of Spider-Man.

Peter and his friends - Ned, MJ and Betty - were all walking in a close group, trying not to take too much space from the road. Ned and Betty were closer than they were before. Sometimes they looked at each other, smiled, whispered something and then giggled. Ned would sometimes try to hold the girl’s hand, but every time their fingers even gently touched each other he pulled his hand away. Quentin couldn’t see Peter or MJ that well because they were walking in front of the two other friends, but a few times they both did turn around and walked backwards, until they accidentally bumped against someone, apologized and then laughed until their cheeks turned red. Quentin squeezed his hands into fists.

Their first stop was some fast food restaurant next to a large shopping center. Quentin stayed outside and watched as the kids waited in line to get their quick snacks before continuing the trip. Out of instinct, Quentin took out his camera, pointed it at the window and zoomed inside over to Peter, and snapped a picture of him. He then realized how suspicious he might look like, so he took a step back, lifted his camera higher up and pretended to take a picture of the sign that read the restaurant’s name. He then walked off and pretended to take some more photos of the building itself. Hopefully, he looked like a reporter, which he was. 

He watched from outside as the friend group ate and chatted peacefully, Ned starting to throw fries for some reason, and MJ picking one out of Peter’s hair. God, he did not like it when someone else touched Peter. Quentin hadn’t even got a chance to touch Peter’s silky hair. It was unfair.

He had to hold himself back to not storm in and claim Peter Parker all to himself.

The next stop was the shopping center and the multiple shops it had inside of it. The group visited a lot of clothing stores, but never bought anything. Most likely they just came here to spend time because they had nothing else to do. Is this what kids did today? Quentin found shopping quite boring. Expect anything would be exciting if Peter Parker was involved. Quentin watched from afar as Peter took out a flowery dress, pressed it against his body and did a girly pose. All of his friends started complimenting him, saying things like _'it matches your eyes',_ before erupting into laughter. Quentin couldn't help but chuckle a little, too. But only a second later did he turn his back to them and tried to hide, just in case he had laughed too loudly.

It was awkward, because he had started circling around a table covered in women’s underwear, and a store clerk had come ask him if he needed help. Luckily, Quentin was used to hiding the fact he was following someone and used the excuse of looking for something for his dear girlfriend, but forgot her actual size so he would have to come here again another day. Everyone always believed him and his excuses. Quentin didn’t panic, at least visibly.

Maybe Quentin could buy underwear for Peter. Or a nice, pretty dress. But now was a bad time, because Peter was leaving and he had to follow him or he would lose him.

The next stop was a store full of toys for kids. Quentin assumed the group went in just out of boredom once again. MJ didn’t seem too interested in going in so she stayed by the main entrance while the other three went in. Quentin kept his distance and kept his eyes locked at the store, holding out his phone and pretending he was texting someone. Instead of trying to keep his eyes on Peter, he kept staring at MJ for some reason. Damn, she was just a teenager yet she felt like a threat to him. Quentin hoped he didn't have to intervene between her and Peter in any way.

After only a few minutes, Peter came out and went to talk to MJ, his hands deep in his jean pockets. Peter was acting differently. He seemed … awkward, more than usually. MJ was a closed book as usually, but suddenly she forced a smile on her face, and Quentin immediately felt like he had to get rid of her. But then Ned and Betty stepped out of the store, loudly talking about something with the words ‘Lego’ and ‘Star Wars’. 

Today, Quentin decided he had seen enough. With almost steam fuming out of his ears, Quentin angrily stomped away back to his home.

\--

Back at home, Quentin had a hard time controlling himself. 

The first thing he did was open a bottle of cheap beer he had bought on his way home. Not his usual alcoholic beverage, but he had decided to try something new. And cheap. He was more of a whiskey kind of guy but the store he went to didn’t damn have it. That just made him angrier. 

Despite not being able to get intoxicated enough from one bad tasting beer, Quentin Beck still felt like he wasn’t able to control his emotions. First he slammed his fist down against the table. It hurt like hell when he hit hard enough, but it wasn't hard enough to bruise anything. Then, he knocked down a chair and threw the newspaper against the ground. His breathing grew heavier as he stared down at the picture of Spider-Man on the front page, his odd looking eyes gazing at the camera like he knew it was there. 

He wasn’t sure why his anger went towards Peter and not that girl who could possibly steal Peter away from him. Was this supposed to be jealousy? Maybe Quentin was angry that Peter couldn’t tell that his dream partner was right next to him. Peter Parker was kind of an idiot who didn't know what was good for him. Maybe Quentin felt like he deserved to be by Peter Parker’s side because he knew his true identity.

Those thoughts led to a stupid idea.

The table covered itself under numerous newspapers, scissors, glue and one single paper that was going to transform into a message. Letters were cut off and placed in a new order before glued onto the paper. Then small black pieces he had cut out from large letters and dark pictures were cut off to create a new picture, something of his own.

When Quentin stopped doing his arts and crafts, he took a step back and just looked down at what he had created. The message was clear. Colorful, different sized letters formed the words _‘I know who you_ _really are’_ on top of the paper, and below them he had created not too bad - looking picture of a spider. For a moment, he felt proud of what he had created, but then a sudden thought made it hard to just leave it like that - _‘I should sign this’,_ Quentin thought.

He turned the paper around where there was much more space for him to write his name. But no, he shouldn’t write his actual name, that would be stupid. He should pretend to be a new super villain, or something. Someone with a name cool enough to be mistaken as someone who fights against the Avengers. A name strong enough to make Peter understand how serious this was. But no names came up to his mind. 

“It has to be something new, something mysterious, something that Peter can’t link to me in any way”, Quentin thought to himself. His palms pressed against the table as his head dropped low. “Mystery man. No, that is just cheap. Mysterious ... Man. No.”

He tried to turn the word ‘mystery’ into something more meaningful, but he had never thought that making up names could be this difficult. He tried adding a new word at the end without success, then tried adding ‘Mr’ to the beginning. Nothing seemed to satisfy him.

His eyes started gazing around the kitchen, trying to find inspiration. That's what writers did, correct? Quentin looked inside the fridge, reading the names of different products and trying to turn them into something more exciting. Then his eyes stopped to stare at his cereal box that had been sitting in his cabinet for far too long. Quentin pulled the yellow box out and hold it in his hands.

“Cheerios”, Quentin said out loud to himself. He stared at the name for a while, thinking before a smile curved over his face.

_“Mysterio.”_

\--

Quentin waited outside the multi-storey building until he saw Peter and his aunt leave the building, get into their car and drive off. It was late enough to be dark, and he assumed the two of them went out to eat or went grocery shopping quickly before the stores would close. While they were gone, Quentin could peacefully go inside and slide his message in.

He managed to get inside the building and found the name ‘Parker’ on a door at fourth floor. He was just about to drop his message through the mail slot when he realized it wasn’t inside a letter. Now, Quentin wasn’t that evil that he would accidentally let aunt May know about Peter’s secret identity. This message was for Peter, and Peter only. He had to get this message inside Peter's room so no one else could read it.

So, the fire escape it is.

Quentin made sure he was in the right side of the building before he started climbing the stairs up, avoiding looking down. He counted the windows he passed until he was on fourth floor, and then peeked inside the room to judge if this was the right apartment. The first quick look inside told him it was obviously a teenage boy’s room. It was messy, clothes thrown around in every corner and some books on the floor after they have fallen from the shelf. Quentin looked in harder, noticing the smallest details of the room. There was a chess board that was still in a middle of a game, and small action figures of cartoon heroes were placed in a row on a shelf. There was a bunk bed, the top of it full of moving boxes that were yet to be unpacked. There was a map of New York on the wall which was odd. 

A shirt with a chemistry pun laid on a chair and caught Quentin’s attention. He has seen Peter wear that shirt before, confirming this was indeed his room. Now he had to get in.

Window was obviously locked, and Quentin had no screwdriver or any tools to help him break in. He tried to simply slide the window open, but it budged only a little. So, it was locked, but seemed to be in such a bad condition that the lock could maybe break or at least give out. Quentin pressed his palms flat against the glass and started moving his hands up and down, up and down. Over and over again, until his arms started to hurt. The whole sliding window seemed unstable, so Quentin hoped that if he did this long and hard enough, it would give in and --

The sliding part of the window suddenly broke and fell out of its place onto the floor. Quentin just stared at it for a while, before mumbling _‘fuck’s sake’_ as he climbed inside. His intention wasn’t to break the whole damn window, but at least he was inside. He would have to fix it up before leaving.

The whole place smelled like Peter. Quentin found himself inhaling deeply the second he was inside, letting the smell and the warmth surround him, letting _Peter_ surround him. He first just looked around, feeling oddly happy to be inside of Peter Parker’s room. Everything around him was … Peter’s. You could not get closer to your crush after this.

After a minute of just enjoying the feeling of being there, Quentin placed the note on top of Peter’s laptop, assuming that it was the first thing a teenage boy touched when he came home. Then, Quentin started taking pictures with his phone. He took a picture of Peter's bed, then his closet, then his belongings. They weren’t going to be the best quality, but he wanted to memorize this moment and not forget a single detail.

Now that he had time, Quentin started looking around even more. He looked harder at the action figures, recognizing them from old shows even he had watched when he was younger. A baseball cap was laid on top of some school books that Quentin just had to try on quickly. The shirt with a chemistry pun ended up in his hands, then pressed against his nose, then the whole face, then his crotch. He looked around the rest of the room with the shirt in his hands, fingers playing with the fabric.

His last stop was the closet. Quentin opened it slowly and peeked behind all the clothes that were put up just to hide the bright red Spider-Man suit. It was so impressive, now that he could look at the details so well. He could tell that it was no ordinary jumpsuit, obviously all kinds of secret gadgets hidden inside of it. Quentin took a step back to take a few pictures with a flash before putting his phone back down. The detailing reminding him of Iron Man's suit, somehow. He wondered if Tony Stark himself had built this suit for Peter. He remembers reading an article about a new Avenger who people suspected to be Spider-Man. It seemed like that theory was true. 

He looked deeper into the closet, running his hand through the pile of clothes like he was looking for something specific. Quentin already had decided to take Peter's shirt, but maybe he could take his underwear too ... Or something else. And indeed, he hit the gold mine, even if it wasn't what he had hoped for. It was another suit. He hadn’t seen this suit before, so he assumed it was before Spider-Man was known all around the world. It was … obviously made my Peter’s clumsy hands. It was just a red hoodie with blue sleeves and a self-made mask with the eyes made out of .... something, maybe the bottom part of Pringles cans. He had no idea. The costume was cheap, even the spider painted on front of it quite rushed, but it looked cool on its own way. Quentin smiled.

He got up and looked at the new suit again. He pressed his hands against the middle where there was a spider, imagining he was touching Peter's chest. 

"I know your secret", Quentin whispered to himself. "It's our secret now."

Suddenly, he could hear a pair of keys enter the lock and open the front door. Quentin jumped in surprise and quickly tossed the suit back into the closet, closing the door as quietly as he could. He could hear aunt May talk about how good the food smelled, Peter obviously bumping against a wall while trying to take off his shoes. 

With his heart racing and Peter’s shirt still in his hand, Quentin quickly moved over to the window and climbed out. He cursed at himself for breaking it and not having the time to even fix it. He had to leave it and make it obvious that someone had been inside Peter’s room. Once he was at the fire escape, Quentin started running the stairs down until he was back safely on the ground. Then, he ran to his car, locked himself inside, smelled Peter’s shirt like he was inhaling heroin, and finally started driving home with his heart pumping blood faster than ever before.

\--

“Not bad for Chinese take-out, huh?” aunt May commented. She was always trying to create a conversation during dinner time, and sometimes it was nice. But some days like this one Peter didn’t feel like sharing. His day hadn't been that special, and lately his mind has been occupied with other things. And today he hadn't had the time to go out as Spider-Man, which made him worried that he had missed his chance to save a life.

“It’s pretty good, yeah”, Peter said back, poking the food a little with his chopsticks. He still sometimes struggled to use them correctly. If he got annoyed, he would just poke the chopstick through anything and use it like a fork. May moved some of her hair behind her ear before taking some vegetables and swallowing them down with a strong _‘mmmh’_. “So, how was school today?”

“It was okay.”

“Did you hang out with your friends after school?”

Peter sighed in defeat, knowing his aunt would not stop asking questions until Peter would give full answers. “Yeah. We went to the mall together. Just looked around and stuff to pass time. It was fun.”

Aunt May smiled. She always seemed extremely cheerful when Peter told her he had been spending time with his friends. She sometimes thought Peter was alone too much. “What were their names again? I remember Ned, and Beth --”

“Betty. And then there’s MJ”, Peter corrected her. 

Aunt May gave him that odd look that just begged to hear more details. “So … MJ, huh? That stands for Michelle, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Are you two dating?”

Peter almost choked on his food. This wasn't even the first time aunt May was suggesting Peter was dating every girl he mentioned, but still. “What? No! May, she’s just my friend. And besides, I’ve just met her.”

“Haven’t you known her for years now?” Aunt May squinted her eyes, then pointed her chopsticks at Peter like she was saying _‘aha, caught you lying’_. “Yeah, but we have been friends only for a little while”, Peter raised his eyebrows at her. “She is cool, likes to draw, has weird humor. But we aren’t dating. I'm not interested in dating her. I swear. Not my type.”

“Okay, okay. That’s alright”, May chuckled and finally focused more on eating than talking. Peter sighed in relief and continued eating, too, thinking about the person he actually had feelings for.

After he was done eating, he went over to his room, closing the door behind him. He sighed and rubbed his eyes as he walked over to his desk and sat by it. His legs were aching after all that walking. Which is stupid, because Peter was used to exercising a lot during the day - and he was fit unlike other teens his age -, you would think that walking a little would be as easy as sleeping the whole day.

He was about to open his laptop before he realized there was a piece of paper on top of it. Peter furrowed his brows and picked it up, reading the odd message someone had created from newspaper letters.

**I knOw WHO yoU rEAlly Are**

Below the text there was a spider, or so it looked like. Peter suddenly went pale as his hands shook a little. He suddenly felt anxious. Sick. Fucking terrified. He knew that keeping his identity was going to be hard when you also had to go to school and work as an intern. But he wasn’t prepared for someone to threaten him like this. Ned was the only one who knew, and he was supportive every second. Now someone else knew, and they seemed dangerous. Even if leaving a message like this was a bit old school and try-hard.

He turned the paper around to see another message.

**MysTEriO**

Peter placed the paper back on top of his laptop and rubbed his face. He had no idea who the fuck this Mysterio was. That made it all worse. It sounded like some super villain name. If this was a new super villain he had to fight, then it was going to be much more serious than ever before. Whoever left this letter was obviously watching his every movement, so they most likely knew who Peter was close with.

Peter's breath stopped for a moment as it got stuck in his throat. Someone had been watching him long enough to figure out his identity. Someone knew who his friends and family was. Someone had figured out where he lived. Someone had broken inside of his house to leave this message.

That’s when Peter rushed over to the window and saw how it was broken. He cursed and walked in circles, not knowing what he should do.

Well, he should fix his window. And always lock it. He had to be careful from now on. Peter thought about telling Tony Stark about this, but at the same time he didn’t want to bother him with a small problem like this. Besides, if his stalker would know Peter told about this to someone else, they could reveal his identity. That’s what Peter was the most terrified of. Maybe he had to lay low and hope whoever this stalker was would just get bored of him and drop this. But that wasn't going to happen because Peter was fucking Spider-Man.

He crashed down on his bed, burying his face against his pillow. His body had chills all over it, his muscles turned tight and the bottom of his stomach felt like it was about to explode. He needed to cool himself down. He needed to find a way to relax and find the strength to work this out. 

He needed to talk to somebody he trusted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes Quentin made up the name 'Mysterio' from a cereal box. Aren't I creative?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaah, I'm sorry that this chapter is so long. For some reason I had some trouble writing it. I tend to write a lot in the first place, and this chapter was hard to put into two pieces so it's just ... long now. I hope none of you mind!  
> Also, this chapter has NSFW at the end!

“When do you get off work?”

For obvious reasons, that question made Quentin feel all kinds of things. First, there was just a little confusion. But then came the butterflies in his stomach and the weird tingling going through his veins that made him feel so weak his legs would give out. It took him a few seconds to progress the question before he could answer calmly to Peter.

“Around seven. Why?” Quentin answered shortly. He watched as Peter moved his body side to side a little, holding something behind his back. He could see it was a newspaper when he tilted his head a little to the side.

With a proud smile Peter revealed the newspaper, the picture Quentin had taken of Spider-Man right on the front page. Quentin had seen it already, but he still got excited seeing his own photograph as the cover for the Daily Bugle. “Well, I thought we should celebrate now that your photograph AND your article made it into the paper”, Peter said. He opened the newspaper, searched for the right page and then spread it out on the table, pointing at the name ‘Quentin Beck’ after a long line of text.

Quentin swallowed nervously. “Celebrate how?”

His heart was going to explode as he waited for an answer. Peter rolled his eyes a little. “By going out.”

There it was. An invitation to go out with Peter Parker. Was this considered a date? Was kissing allowed on a first date? What about --

Quentin was getting too lost in his thoughts. This was definitely going to be something just between two friends, and nothing else, much to his despair. But he was still more than happy to accept the offer and spend some quality time with the love of his life. “Sure. Where do you want to go?” 

“We should go where you want to go!” Peter laughed, his cheeks blushing a little. “But if you don’t know, we can go to a cafe, or something.”

A cafe. That’s a place where people go on first dates. Quentin felt his body heating up. “Well, that’s a start.”

Peter’s smile grew a little wider. “Well, I’m free a little earlier, but we can meet up again here and go to the cafe together?”

Peter’s fingers were fidgeting like crazy and his eyes had a hard time meeting Quentin’s. Even his toes were turned a little bit towards each other. He seemed shy and awkward, and judging from the way he was waiting for an answer, he looked excited. It warmed Quentin’s heart. “Sounds good”, he said. “I’ll find us a good place to stop by.”

Peter smiled again, this time with his teeth visible, as he nodded strongly and then slowly walked away, every now and then looking over his shoulder. 

Quentin felt like his hands were shaking for the rest of the day.

\--

1962 The Cafe was, simply put, nothing special. It was like any other coffee shop in the whole world. Their logo was a simple dark green circle with a white coffee cup in the middle and the name of the place written beneath it, quite similar to Starbuck’s logo. Inside, there were too many windows and every piece of furniture was made of strong wood that had that same light brown color. Surprisingly, the place was far from full, only two old women were sharing a small piece of cake together and some hipster was writing on their laptop in the corner of the room. Quentin had only chosen this place because it was close, it wasn’t overly expensive and it looked normal. He needed some normal in his life after stalking someone every damn day.

Luckily this someone seemed oblivious to what danger was happening around him. As promised, Peter had come back to work, waited until he had finished everything before happily stepping inside Quentin’s car. So far, they hadn’t really talked yet. Quentin hoped the awkward silence would disappear once they got what they wanted and sat down. 

“I’ll take a Cafe Mocha. What do you want, Peter?” Quentin asked. He had mostly picked out his drink just because he saw that the drink will have a nice drawn print in the shape of leaves on its surface. 

Peter looked at the menu for a while, before deciding on ‘iced americano’. “Oh, I also want blueberry cheesecake”, the kid continued.

“Sweet tooth, huh?” Quentin teased him. “Well, I guess I could take something, too … Just a chocolate cookie, thanks.”

“We’ll bring your order to the table”, the young lady said with a smile that was obviously forced.

It came as no surprise that Peter picked out the table with the most comfortable looking cushioned chairs. He sat down and first looked out of the window, watching as people passed by before his eyes met Quentin’s.

“So, how does it feel like to be a real journalist?” he asked. Quentin almost choked in laughter. “I was a real journalist before, you jackass.”

“Yeah, but I mean what’s it like now that your pic is in the front page?”

‘Pic’. Peter had just said ‘pic’ out loud. God, did Quentin love him and his weird teenage slang. “It feels great. It’s definitely one of my proudest accomplishments.”

That was half-a-lie. His greatest accomplishment was meeting Peter in the first place. Figuring out his secret identity was a close second, because he bet that everyone who was an enemy to Spider-Man had thought to try to figure out his identity. And Quentin Beck was the one who had the honor of knowing it. 

When their drinks finally came in, Peter first started with his cake with three blueberries decorating the top. He hummed happily, then cut a piece again with a tiny fork and took another taste. Next, his lips were wrapped around his straw, sipping from his cold drink. Quentin watched him carefully, deciding not to start another conversation. But he could tell something was off. When their eyes would meet, Peter would gently smile but only for a few seconds before turning his gaze away. His fingers became a little fidgety again, tapping on the glass of his drink or scratching his skin. Something was bothering him. 

Quentin knew what was up, obviously, but he still decided to ask. “Everything okay?”

“What? Yeah, I’m okay”, Peter quickly muttered out, avoiding his eyes. Such an obvious liar. It made Quentin chuckle. “You sure?”

Peter bit down onto his lip, thinking how he should approach the subject. “Actually, I wanted to go out with you to open up about something that’s bothering me”, he said slowly, stalling a little after each word.

Quentin swallowed nervously. “Well, go ahead.”

Peter inhaled deeply, then blew some air out. “Okay”, he started. Yet, he gave himself a few long seconds to think what exactly he was going to say. It was intriguing to just watch Peter thinking. His eyes were looking somewhere in the distance and his fingers just kept moving. He looked cute, as always.

When he was finally ready, Peter said: “I got a threatening message … on the internet. And it made me feel a little nervous.”

Ah, he was changing the story to keep the truth secret, but still true enough to be able to use whatever advice he would get. Clever, clever. 

“What kind of a message?” Quentin asked before drinking from his mocha.

“It was just … mean. But like, it was formed in a way that … it sounded like they knew me”, Peter was stuttering a little, most likely making this part of the story up in his head as he went on. “I don’t know. Maybe they don’t know who I am, but if they did, what should I do?”

‘Ask Spider-Man for help’, would be an answer he would like to give, just to be an asshole for a little bit. But he knew Peter was concerned, maybe even afraid. Who wouldn’t be?

“I’d suggest going to the police, maybe. But if it’s just one message, then I wouldn’t worry about it too much”, Quentin answered. He knew Peter wasn’t in any danger, but he had to prove that to the kid in a way that he would believe him. “Someone might be just playing a prank on you. A really mean one if it scares you this much, but most likely just a prank. People can be mean.”

Peter didn’t really buy that, but he still nodded, understanding. “I guess so.”

Peter’s hand rested over the table, his fingers so slender and pretty, his skin nicely pale. Quentin swallowed before he laid his much wider hand on top of his, his thumb caressing Peter’s skin. He felt so soft. Peter’s hand pulled away only an inch, but then it seemed to relax and move fully under Quentin’s hand. Even one of Peter’s fingers pointed up to caress him in return. It made Quentin’s heart race.

“If it happens again, just come to me”, Quentin said with a serious tone. “I’ll help you.”

Peter gently bit down onto his lip again, his eyes so wide he looked like a deer. “Okay”, he said, then gave a small, shy looking smile.

Quentin squeezed the boy’s hand a little harder before pulling his hand away. “Eat your cake, now. It was expensive”, he chuckled before biting down onto his cookie for the first time. Delicious.

Even when he was eating a simple chocolate cookie, he couldn’t help but wonder if Peter tasted this sweet, too.

\--

All good things must come to an end, one way or another. 

As they both stepped out of the cafe, they turned to face each other, awkwardly laughing for some reason. Saying good bye was always hard, even if it wasn’t going to be the last time they were going to see each other.

“Well, I had fun”, Quentin said, burying his hands deep into his pockets. Peter just nodded strongly, his eyes focused on his feet. He looked troubled. Or maybe this was just his way of showing he didn’t want to leave yet. Quentin didn’t want to leave either, but if he were to invite Peter to spend the rest of the night with him, that would be just … well, a little odd. This was, after all, the first time the two of them hang out together. With small disappointment painted over his face, Quentin said: “I guess I should go home, now. You should, too. I can give you a ride if --”

“Ah, wait”, Peter quickly spat out just as Quentin had pulled out his car keys. 

“Mmh?” he hummed, watching as Peter opened his mouth, then closed it again, his tongue quickly stroking over his lips. He mumbled something, beginnings of a sentence that never went too far, meaningless conversation starters. Peter finally cursed silently to himself and inhaled some air to calm himself down so he could speak properly. “I was thinking if I could come with you.”

Quentin froze completely for a few seconds, feeling like he was going to pass out. He just might if his fantasies were suddenly becoming reality. “Like, ‘come with me’ as in coming … to my place?” he stuttered, almost dropping his damn keys.

“Well, yeah”, Peter said. Then he seemed to panic a little, too. “I mean … ! I just want to see how you work from home and stuff. And I guess we could have d-dinner. It’s cheaper to eat at home.”

“That’s true”, Quentin nodded. He couldn't help but smile. Peter wanted to continue their date and have a dinner together. He liked that idea, but Quentin wasn't prepared to cook a meal. He would need maybe a week to plan a perfect date that Peter deserved. “I don’t really have anything at home so we should stop by the shop.”

“Sounds good.”

“And then I’ll order pizza, because that cookie did not fill me up at all, and I am too lazy to cook.”

Peter’s laugh was music to his damn ears, even if he was obviously laughing a little too much over his stupid joke. Yet, Peter's laugh was so damn contagious that even Quentin couldn't hold himself back. With a wide grin, Quentin walked over to his car and opened the door. “Get in”, he ordered, and Peter’s laugh stopped completely. But then he smiled again and literally jumped towards the car, so full of energy he just had to show it.

-

Letting Peter come over to his place was one of the best choices he has ever made, but also one of the stupidest. 

When Quentin was taking out his keys to open the front door, he realized one thing - His whole apartment was evidence on him being Peter’s stalker. He still had the newspapers he cut letters from on the kitchen table, his bedroom walls were almost completely covered in pictures of both Peter and Spider-Man, and on the couch there was Peter’s shirt he had been smelling while watching TV. The second Peter would step in, he would realize the truth and run away from Quentin, and then their love story would be over before it even began. This was extremely bad.

Before unlocking the door, Quentin turned over to the kid with an awkward smile. “Hey, uh, could you wait outside for a moment? My apartment is … well, it is messy enough for it to be embarrassing. I just wanna clean it up before I let you in.”

“I don’t mind mess”, Peter giggled. He was just too damn nice.

“That’s good and all, but I do mean it. Can I clean it up a bit? It will only take five minutes. Pretty please?” Quentin insisted. Peter's eyes widened at the word 'pretty' and he went completely silent. Luckily, Peter gave up on insisting and let him go, promising he was going to wait patiently and not run off.

Quentin closed the door on the kid, and without even taking his shoes off, he ran first to the kitchen to dispose of the evidence. He grabbed all the newspapers and stuffed them into the trash can, even the ones he hadn’t read yet. Too bad. The trash can was almost full now, but he had no time to change it so he left it like that. Not like Peter was going to go through his trash. He wasn't like Quentin.

Next stop was the living room. He grabbed onto Peter’s shirt and without thinking he moved it under the sofa cushions, making the shirt as flat as possible so it wouldn’t be noticed. Then, the worst cleanup job was in his bedroom. For a second Quentin just stared at the wall by his bed, covered in so many damn pictures. He didn’t have the time to take them down peacefully, but he didn’t want to destroy them either. So, Quentin had to climb up on the bed and pull the photos down as fast as he could, but also gently so he wouldn’t rip them. He was counting the seconds in his head as he took each picture down and laid it down by his feet, trying to not make a mess. He even loudly cursed a few times when a picture just refused to come down, but there was no way in hell Quentin would rip these masterpieces.

It had been definitely over five minutes when the wall was finally empty. He grabbed all the photos - all of them perfectly fine - and hid them inside his closet before running over to the door. As he opened it, he saw Peter talking on the phone with somebody. When Peter saw that the door was opened, he smiled and stepped in, starting to take off his shoes while still having a phone call.

“Yeah, I’ll be safe. Yeah, May … Love you, too. I gotta go now. Okay. Have a nice weekend. Bye, byeee”, Peter tried to talk a bit more quietly now that someone was listening to him. When the call was finally over, he put his phone into his pocket and removed his jacket. “Sorry. I was just telling aunt May where I was.”

“You told her you were with me?” Quentin asked, his brows raising up high.

Peter shook his head. “I told her I was with Ned.”

Ah, he was secretive about Quentin. He didn’t mind, he understood Peter’s reasons. He didn’t want his aunt to judge him for hanging out with a guy much older than him. Quentin actually liked that he was another one of Peter’s little secrets. 

After removing his own shoes and jacket, Quentin turned over to Peter. “So ... Pizza?”

\--

It was getting late, and which each minute passing Quentin grew more and more anxious. Not like he didn’t enjoy having Peter around him, in his apartment, so close to him. No, it was damn perfection. But there was that fear that Peter would, somehow, find out that Quentin had been the one who send that stupid message. Even more, he was afraid to make a wrong move and scare Peter away.

Despite their time together being a little awkward, Quentin managed to act normal despite the storm of panic going wild inside of him. While waiting for their pizza to be delivered, Quentin gave Peter a quick tour around his apartment. His place was as boring as it could get, because Quentin wasn’t the kind of guy who felt the need to decorate his place. The kitchen was small and empty, the living room only consisted of a couch, a television, a small table and an ugly carpet. They had a quick look into his bedroom, but only a very quick one because … well, bedrooms were awkward. He still remembered the way Peter went all tense went they stood by the door, just looking in like they were thinking if they should go in or not.

Before Quentin could show Peter his office he had build just because he didn’t like the idea of leaving the extra room empty, their food had came. Strong silence surrounded them as they ate and watched some stupid show from the TV. It was ... awkward if Quentin dared to say because both of them were still quiet, but Quentin didn't mind the silence that much. Every now and then he would look at Peter who sadly was more focused on watching the show and eating his pizza. Even when Peter had his mouth full, he still looked so handsome. Quentin's heart started pounding faster the more he looked at Peter sitting on his couch, so close to him. _This felt like a date._ They both sure were acting like they were on a date, expect there was much less talking and getting to know each other. Well, he and Peter had gotten to know each other before, but still. People always talked on dates.

When they had finished their meal, they had continued watching the show until the episode was over, the silence still as suffocating as before. Only when the end credits were scrolling did Quentin dare to say something. “So, uh, I was supposed to show you how I work from home”, he started. “It’s real exciting.”

It wasn’t, honestly. He just typed away with his computer and that’s it. Probably the best part about working from home was that you could do it in your underwear.

“Oh! Yeah. Show me, show me”, Peter pretended to be really intrigued on the subject. “It’s for future reference, so I can become as successful as you”, he continued with a sarcastic tone as he got up from the couch. What a damn brat. Peter was lucky his sarcastic nature was adored by Quentin.

They entered the last room which was most likely the saddest place in the apartment. It only had a table and a worn out chair, and of course his laptop that was way too expensive to be used for work stuff. The curtains were often closed, and the lights in the room didn’t work so he had to use a lamp to see what he was typing. Otherwise, there wasn’t much else to see. Quentin started to fear that his apartment reflected his personality somehow.

“Wow, that’s depressing”, Peter cackled.

“I know, I know. I suck at decorating”, Quentin joked as he leaned against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets. Peter stepped in and looked around to see if the room had something more to see, but there was nothing exciting, expect maybe the color of the walls. He then slowly returned over to the doorframe, his hands tied behind his back.

“Working from home sounds cool”, Peter said.

“It is. You basically have your own rules, and it’s much more relaxing”, Quentin commented. “Sadly, I don’t get to do it too often.”

Peter just hummed as an answer. And then it was quiet again. 

It was getting extremely late. Quentin could see how dark it was outside from the window, and he knew Peter should start leaving soon. He really didn’t want the kid to leave yet, but he knew what it was like to be a teenager. And he knew very well Peter had more than just teen stuff to worry about. Peter had homework, housework and superhero-stuff. That's enough to keep him busy. At least it wasn’t a school day tomorrow. But that was no excuse to keep Peter here for the night.

“It’s getting pretty late”, Quentin commented. He let out a sad sigh and turned to face Peter. “Shouldn’t you head home so your aunt won’t freak out?”

Peter’s eyes widened a bit and he swallowed so strongly the sound was audible. He squirmed a little on his spot, his eyes dropping to the floor. “I told her I was going to stay the night at Ned’s”, he said quietly. 

If words could give people heart attacks, Quentin Beck would be dead by now thanks to Peter. Quentin’s whole body felt like it was on fire, odd tingling starting from his toes and slowly rising up to take over his whole body. His throat felt so dry that it was hard to get a word out. And his mind was filled with one question: _‘Why would Peter say that he wasn’t coming home tonight?’_

There was an answer Quentin hoped to hear but he had to be sure first before jumping into conclusions. “Why would you say that?” he finally managed to sputter out, his voice shaking just a little. Peter didn’t answer him. His head fell down and he kept pressing his right foot’s toes against the floor, kicking the floor gently in a slow beat. Quentin leaned down a little, chasing after some eye contact. “Peter? Why would you say that?”

Peter’s eyes were just a little red when he lifted his chin up. And then, he suddenly leaned forward until their lips met. It all happened so fast that Quentin’s automatic reaction was to pull back. His heart skipped a beat as his brain tried to catch up on the last events, his legs suddenly starting to feel a little weak. Peter had just kissed him. It hadn’t even lasted for a second, and Quentin could barely remember how it felt like, but it had happened. He had just kissed Peter.

But Peter wasn’t moving for another kiss. In fact, he choked on air a little, fighting back a sob. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that”, he mumbled, his hand running over his whole face, then his hair.

“Peter”, Quentin whispered, still in shock. 

The first tear came out but Peter was quick to wipe it away with the back of his hand. “I just really like you”, his words were trembling and so quiet that Quentin could barely hear them. But he was glad he did. _Peter Parker liked him back._ He didn’t like that friend of his, or anybody else. He really liked Quentin in the same way he liked him. This was too good to be possible. It was a dream come true.

But then, the dream was ending.

“I should go”, Peter mumbled and started walking away. But Quentin wasn’t going to let him go. Never. He had been dreaming of this moment for so long now, he wasn’t going to fuck it up and regret it later. So he quickly went after Peter. He didn’t have the voice to call out after him, so he just ran, for whatever reason taking off his glasses and tossing them over to the couch. He didn’t want them to be on the way of his plan.

The kid was already close to the front door when Quentin grabbed him by the shoulder, spun him around and pushed him against the wall. And then, his mouth attacked his, hungrily kissing Peter like there was no tomorrow. Peter released a muffled cry against his lips, but still eagerly kissed him back. Peter tasted sweet, and a little wet. His cheeks felt so warm against Quentin’s hands. It felt perfect, despite the tears and the odd anxiety that refused to leave the bottom of his abdomen. Quentin could feel Peter grab onto his shirt and pull like he needed support to stay standing on his feet.

Once their mouths finally parted away from each other, they both took their time to catch their breath, their foreheads resting against each other. Quentin’s thumbs stroked under Peter’s eyes, wiping away the tears. Peter was still crying a little, heavily gasping for air.

“I really like you too, kid”, Quentin panted out. He could feel Peter shiver from those words. “I’ve liked you for a long while now.”

Peter released a small hiccup before collecting his voice back. “You never told me”, Peter swallowed strongly before gently breathing through his mouth, every little blow of air tickling against Quentin’s skin. 

Quentin leaned in closer, rubbing his nose against the side of Peter’s head, smelling his hair, inhaling his musk. He felt like he was high when he was this close to Peter. “I was afraid”, Quentin whispered. He lowered his head and let his lips gently brush against Peter’s ear. In return, he got such a sweet sounding little whine. “But I always yearned for you. So. Badly.”

Quentin dared to kiss Peter’s neck. He had to do whatever his mind told him to do before this moment would be over. He placed slow, tender kisses against the teen's neck, before applying more pressure, sucking on his neck harder. Peter’s skin felt soft against his lips, against his own skin … He felt soft everywhere. He noticed Peter arching his back and tilting his head to the side to grand easier access to his neck, his whole body surrendering to Quentin Beck. Quentin’s hands traveled down Peter’s body, feeling his torso through his shirt, fingers trying to feel those toned muscles he has worked so hard for. 

“Please”, Peter mumbled out, his hands grabbing tightly onto Quentin’s shoulders. Quentin sucked on his neck harder, hard enough to leave a hickey there. He wanted to mark Peter his so nobody else would try to get him.

“Please … what?” 

Quentin adored the way Peter gasped for air a little, then wiggled under his touch. Interesting reaction to teasing. But Peter wasn’t shy for long when his hands moved to cup Quentin’s cheeks as he pulled the man away, just enough so they could create eye contact.

“Please … Make me yours”, Peter said quietly, deep desire hidden beneath those innocent eyes of his. How the hell could Quentin deny such a request?

His hands traveled underneath Peter’s thighs and with one lift, he had Peter in his arms, his legs wrapped around his waist. Peter was heavy, but without complaining Quentin started carrying him over to the bedroom, holding onto him with all of his strength. His legs felt oddly heavy and his back started to ache, but luckily the way wasn’t too long and soon he laid Peter down in the middle of his bed, watching how the young man relaxed on the duvet, his eyes nervously looking up at Quentin. His body was responding well to this situation, his legs opening wider as to welcome Quentin between them. But Peter’s face showed how truly nervous he was, and the way his eyes kept looking all around made it clear he was maybe second guessing this.

“Just tell me when to stop”, Quentin said quietly as he lowered himself closer to Peter, pressing their bodies together. Peter gave him a strong nod and mouthed _‘I will’_ before their lips met again, tasting each other hungrily.

Peter felt small underneath him. He knew the kid was strong and well build, yet he somehow seemed so vulnerable and easy to break whenever Quentin’s hands ran over his body. He adored every little move Peter made - His legs kicking a little, his hands holding onto Quentin tighter or caressing his back, Peter’s body arching up to feel all of Quentin pressed against him. Everything about him was perfect. Every little move Peter made always showed how desperate he was for this.

Quentin especially adored the sound Peter made against the kiss when one of Quentin’s hands slipped underneath his shirt. Peter seemed ticklish, because the higher his hand went, the more he was wiggling. But he seemed to enjoy it. When both of Quentin’s hands were under his shirt, touching his body and teasing his nipples, Peter was softly moaning against the kiss, every now and then rolling his hips up. Quentin felt like he was going insane. He wanted to feel every inch of Peter Parker, taste him more, claim him, own him. He wanted all of him so desperately. 

Quentin started to lose his control and he found it hard to keep his pace slow, so his next move was to pull away from the kiss and pull of Peter’s shirt, tossing it far away from the bed. Fuck, Peter was ripped, more muscular-looking that Quentin himself. But he wasn’t jealous. He just admired Peter and every inch of him. His hands were immediately touching over those strong muscles, fingers rubbing down onto them, feeling how hard they were. Peter smirked a little, showing himself off a little before he sat up and started pulling Quentin’s shirt off, too. Quentin helped him, and when both of their torsos were naked and bare, Quentin pushed Peter back down onto the bed and pressed their bodies together again. 

“F-fuck”, Peter’s voice was breathless and high pitched, just as Quentin had imagined it to be. Peter held his eyes closed as he hugged the man on top of him, at the same time rolling his hips up in a fast rhythm. “ _Quentin_.”

It wasn’t a question, or a call for help. It was just Peter breathing out his name because he liked the way it rolled over his tongue. Hearing his name called out like that made Quentin groan, and he started rolling his hips down, meeting them with Peter’s. They were both hard as a rock, desperate enough to just grind against each other like this for the rest of the night. But Quentin had other plans.

“Fuck, kid, you’re gonna drive me crazy”, Quentin grunted into his ear before pressing deep kisses against his neck, now marking the other side too with soft red marks. Peter shivered as a reaction, and one of his hands snaked between their bodies. They stopped grinding against each other so Peter could open the fly of his own jeans. 

Eager. Peter was eager for this, eager for him. Just knowing that Peter Parker wanted to be with him this bad made Quentin almost cum right inside his pants.

He didn’t intent to watch the kid undress himself like that. Quentin slapped Peter’s hand away and replaced it with his own, starting to pull his jeans down. Inch by inch, more skin was revealed, and the more he saw, the more his heart started racing. Peter’s thighs looked nice and fleshy, yet strong enough to maybe crush his damn head. And .. even if his cock was still hidden beneath his boxers, Quentin could tell he needed to have it deep down his throat.

Peter seemed even more shy when someone was staring at his body like this. He was biting down onto his knuckles, breathing heavily, but still keeping his legs open, inviting Quentin in. And there was nothing he wanted more than he wanted this.

Quentin’s first instinct was to reach into the drawer by his bed and pull out something he had started keeping there just for this moment. A half-full bottle of lube and a pack of condoms yet to be opened. He left the condoms on top of the drawer while taking the bottle of lube with him, leaving it close enough to be reached for when needed.

“Quentin”, Peter said, lifting himself up to his elbows. “I haven’t done this before.”

Peter being a virgin was just icing on the cake. It meant that Quentin was going to be his first lover, and hopefully, the last too. But it also meant that Peter was inexperienced, and while it was going to be fun to teach him about this stuff, it also meant that Peter might be very, very new to this kind of stuff.

“Do you want to stop?” Quentin asked, just to be polite. Peter quickly shook his head and said: “Just go easy on me.”

Quentin had no intent to go easy on him because he wanted this night to make Peter crazy, but he still nodded before starting to remove Peter’s underwear.

His cock was almost adorable. It was around the average size and skinny enough for Quentin to be able to wrap his fingers around it with no trouble. The tip was already leaking pre-cum, making Quentin lick his lips. "Such a perfect little cock", Quentin commented with a smirk, his fingers gently tracing over Peter's hard-on. "Quentin!" Peter gasped before covering his mouth, his cheeks growing redder.

“Spread your legs”, Quentin ordered, and Peter didn’t make him wait even a second. His legs opened wide, then lifted up a little so his entrance was also free to be touched. With a shaky breath, Quentin leaned down and pulled out his tongue, stroking it hungrily first over Peter’s entrance, then over to his balls, then slowing down when he came to his cock. Peter moaned softly, one of his hands already moving to mess with Quentin’s brown hair.

Quentin grabbed onto the bottle of lube, coated two of his fingers before pressing them gently against Peter’s hole, hoping they didn’t feel too cold. His other hand snaked around Peter’s thigh, guiding it over his shoulder and holding onto it tightly.

“I’ll go slowly”, Quentin said as he started rubbing his finger over the bundle of muscles, watching as Peter slowly relaxed and waited patiently. When the coast was clear, he started pushing it in. Peter took the first finger with ease, only whining a little as a reaction but otherwise he was doing a wonderful job. Quentin wondered if Peter had done this to himself, imagining someone else’s fingers down there instead.

Moving his index finger in and out in a very slow rhythm, Quentin’s eyes ended up staring down at Peter’s cock. He was so hard. Knowing that Quentin was able to make Peter feel this good made him feel proud, maybe even full of himself. He wanted to keep making the kid feel even better. So, Quentin leaned down with his mouth open and pressed his lips against the tip, giving it a strong kiss. Peter gasped. “F-fuck, yes”, he then moaned, his hand gently tugging at Quentin’s hair, trying to guide him to take more of him. Quentin obliged and opened his mouth wider, his lips wrapping around the head of his cock, sucking on it strongly. He bobbed his head fondly up and down, his finger moving in and out in the same rhythm, always aiming to go a little deeper, trying to massage at the right spot. 

“You can put more”, Peter’s voice was so quiet that Quentin had barely heard him the first time. He gasped away from his cock to focus on entering a second finger. When he went slowly, his middle finger sunk inside Peter’s ass too, his muscles starting to squeeze around him a little harder. 

“God, you are perfect, Peter Parker. So perfect”, Quentin growled as he started fingering the younger man, hungrily kissing his inner thigh. Peter was tight, but he was taking his fingers so well that it was obvious he had been doing this on his own. And God, knowing no one else had touched him like this made Quentin even more possessive.

More lube covered his fingers. A third finger slowly entered Peter and started spreading him open. Peter’s cock twitched when Quentin wrapped his lips back around it and swallowed more of him, lowering his head down until the tip poked against the back of his throat. Peter had slowly become a moaning mess, every whimper he released sounding like something only an angel could make. It just made Quentin want more. He sucked on Peter’s cock harder, hungrily humming against his flesh while he fingered faster, trying to curl his fingers to touch that sweet spot inside of him.

“Quentin, Quentin”, Peter moaned, tossing his head side to side. His stomach sucked in and his thighs had started shaking lightly, an obvious sign he was growing closer. “Oh fuck, Quentin.”

Quentin pulled back, letting Peter’s cock fall past his lips and rest against his stomach. His fingers spread open once more before he pulled them out, knowing Peter was ready to take him now. Peter slowly came back to reality after being denied his orgasm, still whimpering every now and then. He was desperate. The look he gave Quentin told him that he needed to be fucked, right now. And Quentin would fuck him until Peter's spirit left his body.

“Do you ... have … protection?” Peter managed to mumble out. 

“Of course”, Quentin said as he reached back over to the drawer, pulling one out and opening the package. He kicked off his own pants, pulled out his cock and started wrapping the rubber over it. He noticed how Peter sat up and just stared at his cock with wide eyes and almost drool falling past his lips. It made Quentin chuckle proudly. One day, he wanted to fill Peter’s mouth with his cock and hear him gag around it. But tonight, he wanted to focus completely on Peter.

“You ready, angel?” Quentin cupped Peter’s cheek, stroking his thumb side to side. Peter just melted against him after hearing that pet name, nodding strongly.

“Lay down”, Peter managed to say, his eyes half-lidded and full of lust.

“Me?” Quentin asked like an idiot. Peter nodded and tried to guide the man to lay on his back. Now that was surprising. Quentin honestly didn’t mind if Peter was a little bit of a pillow princess - That just meant Quentin could touch him all over. But the idea of Peter being in control made his cock twitch, so he guessed he didn't mind the idea. Without any complaints, Quentin laid down on the bed and watched how the younger man climbed on top of him, straddling over his hips. 

“Is it okay if I ride you?” Peter asked. He grinded his hips down a little, making sure to rub his ass against Quentin’s erection. Despite being so shy before, Peter seemed to finally get his confidence back to show how truly slutty he was, and Quentin was so here for it. 

“Fuck, yes”, Quentin panted out, his thumbs massaging those beautiful thighs. “Just take it slow, darling.”

Every time he used a pet name, Peter blushed a little and did his best to hide his smile. It was adorable to look at. Quentin had to look up a list of different pet names just to see which one made Peter turn red the most.

Peter reached behind himself and guided Quentin’s cock to press against his entrance. Quentin helped him by spreading the boy’s ass cheeks further apart, holding his breath in excitement as Peter tried to get his cock inside of him. A few times Quentin’s cock slipped away from his entrance which made them both giggle, but then they just tried again until --

“Oooh, my God”, Quentin threw his head back and gritted his teeth together. As he finally entered Peter, this incredible heat surrounded his cock all around. Peter was just perfectly tight enough, and so warm, so good that it almost made his eyes water. Peter seemed to be enjoying himself, too, as his breathing grew heavier the more he lowered himself down. Slow and steady, Peter took more of Quentin inside of him until finally he could fully sit down. Both of them gasped for air and allowed their bodies to relax, taking a moment to just appreciate how it all felt like.

This was happening. This was real. Peter belonged to him, and no one else.

Quentin couldn’t hold himself back. He propped himself up to his elbows and pulled Peter down, hungrily crashing their lips together. Peter happily moaned against the kiss and started moving his hips. His movements were awkward and inexperienced, but nonetheless it still felt so wonderful. While still trying to keep their mouths locked together, Peter tried out different ways of moving. He first started grinding his hips down, rocking them gently forward and back. When Quentin’s hold onto him relaxed and he had more room to move, Peter started bouncing his bottom up and down. Quentin’s cock stayed buried deep inside of him, and judging from the hazy look in his pupils, Peter was enjoying how it felt like. His eyes were closed as he focused on getting his prostate stimulated.

“There you go, baby, there you go”, Quentin encouraged him. He pressed his heels strongly against the mattress and started bucking his hips up to meet with Peter’s, following his slow rhythm. 

“Fuck, Quentin”, Peter’s voice was high enough to be counted as singing as he started moving faster, desperate for more. This was much better than any of Quentin’s fantasies. He had always imagined Peter being a helpless virgin, a boy who didn’t even know what kind of a touch he liked yet. Quentin had always imagined that their first time was extremely slow and gentle, and he never was against the idea of fucking Peter slowly for hours until they both were close. But this was actually much better than any of his dirty dreams. Peter was still a virgin, but he had obviously studied on how to move his hips, what kind of sounds to make, where to touch and kiss and where not. He had obviously studied this every time he had watched porn, analyzing what he saw and memorizing it. Maybe Peter had been riding a toy just like this on his own, trying to keep quiet so his aunt wouldn't wake up. And God, knowing that Peter had done all that just in hopes of giving Quentin Beck one hell of a ride made him just want to fuck Peter’s brains out.

“You’re mine”, Quentin moaned out as he started slamming his hips up a little harder, smirking as he got a surprised yelp as an answer. “ _You’re mine_.”

Peter’s moans were shaky and shivering as he tossed his head back, trying to keep up with his lover. He kept repeating Quentin’s name like it was a prayer, breathing it out whenever he had enough air in his lungs. His thighs were getting shakier and every time Quentin thrusted inside, Peter’s moans grew louder, almost so loud that the neighbors could hear him. 

Peter sat up straight and stared down at Quentin, resting his hands over his own thighs as he let Quentin fuck into him faster again. Peter obviously showed his perfect body off, wanting his lover to admire it and watch how he bounced over his cock. With a strong grunt, Quentin slammed himself inside harder than before and watched how Peter’s whole body shook. “There”, he moaned. “Oh God, right _there_.”

Quentin found it impossible to calm down now that he had Peter Parker fully naked and riding his cock like a whore. He pressed his feet against the mattress, grabbed Peter by his hips and started rolling his hips up, aiming to go faster and slam them against the boy’s ass harder each time. He ignored how his muscles were aching and burning like he had been running five days straight, because everything was worth it when Peter moaned like that. The kid was going damn crazy when his prostate was pounded this hard, faster than he has ever been able to stimulate himself. Without a proper warning, Peter came all over Quentin’s stomach, multiple ‘fuck’s' escaping past his lips, his thighs shaking and trying to close so desperately when he became overstimulated. The way his mouth locked open and how his brows curved up made Quentin almost cum himself. But just almost.

He gave Peter time to rest, even allowed the young man lay down against him and catch his breath, before Quentin flipped them over, towering over Peter. He lifted Peter’s legs higher, positioned himself before slowly starting to thrust in, watching how the kid reacted. Peter’s eyes watered a little, his face grew a little redder and soft whines started escaping past his lips. And only after a few thrusts, Peter was stroking his cock, desperate to cum again.

"Oh, Quentin”, Peter’s words were becoming as shaky as his legs as Quentin focused on rubbing his cock against his prostate. “Oh, fuck. Quentin, Quentin -- F-fuck.”

Quentin’s mouth attacked his neck, blemishing it in marks as he started thrusting faster. Peter was stroking himself as fast as he could, trying to buck back against his lower to make himself get close again. Their bodies were getting sweaty and sticky, and it was becoming almost too hot to stay so close to each other. But Quentin was busy claiming Peter, owning him, breeding him. His hand wrapped around Peter’s wrist and he pinned it above his head, giving Peter the freedom to stroke himself to a second orgasm with his free hand. Quentin's hips started to lose control, their rhythm getting messy and turning into just desperate, fast bucks that made even his body tremble.

Their lips locked together again, their tongues stroking against each other while the room was filled with the sounds of muffled moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin mixed together with sinful wet sounds. Knowing Peter was finally his, Quentin allowed himself to release and he came, his hips still trying to keep moving until he finally couldn’t take it and ended up just pushing his cock deep inside Peter's sweet little ass. Peter was tightening like hell around him, his hand obviously growing tired of stroking but to his luck, Quentin pulled his hand away and replaced it with his. He only had to stroke the kid a few times until Peter was coming again, tearing up and releasing a long low moan that made his throat hurt. 

Such a beautiful view. Such a beautiful moment. Peter sighed strongly, choked back a sob, then giggled a little. He managed to look at Quentin only for a second before he giggled again and looked away shyly. Instead of saying anything, Peter wrapped all of his limbs around Quentin’s body, pulling him closer, ignoring how nasty they both felt.

And Quentin Beck was sure he would never allow himself to let go of the treasure he finally had found.

\--

Peter had no memory of falling asleep. He woke up naked, still feeling a little dirty between his legs, and dirty in general. Quentin was asleep right next to him, looking as peaceful as ever. It was obvious Quentin had taken a proper shower after the events of last night, and most likely he hadn’t dared to wake Peter up so he had cleaned the sleeping boy the best he could before letting him rest. 

Peter felt so sore. So, so, so fucking sore. Fighting against crime was nothing compared to yesterday’s activity. When he stood up from the bed, his legs felt weak and shaky, and it was hard to keep his back straight. After a few stretches, Peter managed to collect his clothes and make it to the bathroom to clean himself.

He stepped out only wearing boxers and his shirt, his hair a little damp from water after trying to wash it from the sink. It was a little past 5AM, so obviously too early for him to be awake. He had nowhere to be, after all. He could stay by Quentin’s side as long as he wanted to. The thought made Peter hop back over to the bedroom, a wide grin covering his whole face. He wanted to cuddle up against Quentin and just enjoy the warmth.

Peter was standing on the doorway of the bedroom, just smiling as he watched Quentin snore quietly when sudden hunger hit him. Peter was the kind of guy who couldn't sleep when he was hungry. He moved over to the kitchen and opened a fridge, not feeling shy at all to take what he wanted. It was odd, but this place already felt like home.

He decided to make himself some eggs. Just a little snack that was easy and fast to make. He took two eggs and a pan, cracked the first one and threw the shells into the trash can.

The trash can was filled with newspapers. Peter wasn’t sure why he was going through Quentin’s trash, but he was a curious being and couldn’t help it. He wanted to learn everything about Quentin.

Quentin seemed to like being in control during sex. He was intimate and rough, mixed together with moments of sweetness and carefulness. He was funny and inspiring, yet seemed quite lonely. He didn’t decorate his house, so he didn’t value objects, he valued memories. He enjoyed photographing. He found enjoyment in simple things. Quentin was a simple guy.

Quentin liked cutting letters from newspapers, for some reason.

Peter stared over to the direction where the bedroom was for a long moment, before deciding to crack the second egg and continue making his breakfast. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi its almost 4 am and am tired lmao


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to update as often as I can, but gdi my own writing style keeps distracting me and I never seem to be satisfied with what I write. But I'm not giving up on this. I hope the chapters just aren't too long to read

Quentin’s shirt was a little too big for Peter to wear. The texture was soft, but it felt a little itchy against his upper back. The color was strongly black, the sleeves were a bit long and it had a v-cut. Peter adored it. He couldn’t stop touching it, and a few times he lifted the hem up to his nose and inhaled. It mostly smelled like whatever shit Quentin used to wash his clothes, something basic without any flowery scent. But he swore it also smelled like Quentin. He just didn’t know how to describe his scent.

“Okay, stop smelling my shirt, weirdo”, Quentin laughed as he slowed down the car at a red light. “I get it, you like it.”

“I _love_ it”, Peter hummed happily, still taking one inhale of the fabric before letting his shirt drop down. Quentin hadn’t really offered a shirt to him. Peter had just went up to his closet and pulled one out, claiming it for himself. Maybe in the future, he would steal Quentin’s hoodies, too. 

It was still early. Quentin had decided he wanted to work today and insisted driving Peter home. He also had said that the two of them should keep a little distance from each other after what had happened last night. After all, everything had went so fast. Peter was still memorizing every little detail his memory still had. Yes, he remembered the nice, but a little awkward date they had. He remembered entering Quentin’s apartment. He remembered suddenly kissing Quentin. Peter wasn’t sure why he couldn’t hold himself back. Maybe just being inside Quentin’s apartment had made him feel out of control. Because of that kiss, things had evolved into something much more because neither of them had self-control.

Peter didn’t regret last night. Not one bit. But he felt like that the moment this car stopped, he was in for a lecture on how they should slow down. Not like slowing down was a bad thing. 

After directing Quentin to drive in front of his apartment, they stopped the car and just sat there. Peter wasn’t sure if he should just take his stuff, exit the car and run inside, or if he should wait for Quentin. He ended up doing the ladder.

“Was I … any good?” Quentin asked. Quite of a bold question to ask right away. Peter awkwardly chuckled and looked away.

“Are you kidding me? You were really, really good. Like, for real”, Peter said. When his eyes ended up wandering back to Quentin, the older man was looking at him with curiosity, waiting to hear more. Peter swallowed. “It was … a lot better than I expected it to be. I still feel really sore, haha … But you did great, Quentin. Really.”

Peter wouldn’t lie about that. Quentin had fucked him like a damn porn king. Peter had been prepared to have boring sex filled with only sloppy blowjobs that didn’t last even five minutes. But he had cum twice. _Twice_. Peter did sometimes find it annoying when he would touch himself and finish, but then realize he needed one more before he could rest. But when he had been with Quentin, both of his orgasms had felt amazing and not … annoying at all. The thought that he had been able to pull that off still made him blush. 

Peter wondered if Quentin had also spend his free time studying how to have awesome sex.

“You did really good, too, Peter”, Quentin smiled and left it at that. 

His fingers were drumming against the steering wheel as Quentin took a few seconds before he would change the subject a little. “Do you think we moved on too fast?” he finally asked, and Peter could feel himself start sweating a little.

“I know we kinda jumped into it a bit fast, and I feel like that’s my fault. But I don’t regret it”, Peter said with honesty, his fingernails digging down onto his palm. “Do you … regret it?”

“No, no! I don’t”, Quentin answered quickly. “I just … don’t wanna mess this up.”

The two of them locked eyes and gave soft smiles for each other. The atmosphere didn’t feel so thick and heavy anymore. In fact, both of them seemed to agree on one thing - They didn’t regret what had happened, but now wanted to take it more slowly. That was a sign that both of them wanted an actual relationship and not just a one night stand.

Peter blushed a little and drummed his feet against the floor. “So … Uh … Would you … like to be my boyfriend?”

His words had quickly spat themselves out of his mouth before he had even realized. Peter felt so anxious it even made his stomach upset, but then he could feel Quentin’s hand rub the back of his neck, comforting him. “Yes”, Quentin smiled. “I’d like to be your boyfriend.”

Quentin’s grip hardened as he made Peter turn his head and face him. He pulled Peter closer, leaned in and then their mouths met each other, sharing a chaste kiss. Quentin didn’t want to pull back, and luckily neither did Peter. A few long seconds passed until Quentin decided to try and pull back. But Peter’s hand had already moved to cup his cheek and he was pulled back in, the kiss growing deeper and more heated. It didn’t even take that long for Peter to open his mouth wider and try to push his tongue out, but to his disappointment Quentin forced the two of them to separate.

“Damn it, Peter. If you don’t calm yourself, then I can’t promise that I’ll go easy on you”, Quentin almost growled like an animal. 

“Sorry, I just … I really like you”, Peter mumbled out. “You make me feel really good.”

Quentin’s hand caressed through Peter’s hair, his fingers massaging his scalp. “I know, kid. You make me feel a lot of things. Things that make it hard for me to control myself.”

Peter’s cheeks turned a little redder. Quentin moved in for a kiss again, and this time he simply just pressed their lips together gently without even opening his mouth. He let it last only for a few seconds before he pulled back.

“Don’t worry. We can go on a date again soon. Just text me”, Quentin said.

“Okay”, Peter nodded, taking that as a sign that it was time to get out of the car. He opened the door, stepped out and then leaned down to look at Quentin one more time. “See you later.”

“See ya, kid”, Quentin said. The door closed, Peter went inside, and once he was completely gone out of the view, Quentin sighed and drove over to work, feeling happy as ever.

\--

The next week seemed to go faster somehow. Maybe it was because Quentin took some space from Peter now that they were dating (and Peter couldn't possibly cheat on him), and focused more on his work. Despite burying himself in work, he felt like most of his time went to texting Peter. He was a busy kid since he had school and the duty to help the neighborhood, but he always had time to answer Quentin’s messages. It just meant that Quentin was now his top priority. As he should be.

Quentin Beck felt like he was changing. He started thinking about what he had done before - if he had done the right thing or not. A part of him knew stalking was wrong. Another part of him knew that he did it to protect Peter and that it was acceptable. Right now, he didn’t see the need to stalk Peter again. Now that Peter was finally his boyfriend, there was no need to be so possessive. Maybe in the future, he would destroy all those photos of Peter when the kid would start sending his own selfies. Pictures Peter has wanted to send were much more special than the pictures taken against his consent.

Quentin felt like he could act like a ‘normal’ citizen soon.

That was until the text message he received on Thursday.

**_Peter_ **

_Hey, can’t go on a date today either. Me and MJ are gonna hang today_

_I’m really sorry :( I’ll make it up for u_

Now, Quentin felt extremely angry, and he couldn’t understand why. He knew that Peter liked him. He knew. Yet, the thought of Peter hanging out with anyone, especially MJ, made Quentin feel so anxious he became afraid of abandonment.

He shook his head strongly. He needed to trust Peter Parker more than this. That’s what love was about - Trusting each other, and … other things Quentin still had to learn about. Quentin didn’t know much about love and how to act in a relationship, but he was going to do his best with Peter. 

So, he shouldn’t be this jealous. He shouldn’t be angry that Peter had friends. With a deep breath, Quentin started writing a message back.

**_Quentin_ **

_That’s a promise. I miss you._

Quentin buried his phone back into his pocket and took a deep sigh. He really did miss Peter. He missed the boy so much that all of his free time was spend on smelling that stupid shirt of his and staring at pictures of Peter’s perfect face. Sometimes it calmed him down perfectly. Sometimes, it wasn’t enough.

Today Quentin felt like he needed stronger inspiration.

\--

Peter still hadn’t got a new window.

Quentin noticed that it was made of the same white paint-covered wood and it had been just quickly fixed onto its place with instructions stolen from Google. Most likely Peter and aunt May had fixed it together in order to save some money. Speaking of aunt May, Quentin prayed she wasn’t home. He had waited outside the building for over an hour, walking in circles, checking if she was home or not. But as he climbed the fire escape and stood by the window and peeked in, he could see that the room’s door was wide open, and that no one seemed to be inside.

Quentin opened the window much faster than last time, and this time he didn't break it. It was already broken and weak, so it nudged open quite easily. He climbed inside, then closed the window behind him, just in case. For a minute he just stood there silently, listening carefully. He could hear the neighbors, but he didn’t hear any sign of life inside the apartment he was in. Coast was clear.

Peter hadn’t cleaned up in his room at all. He had picked up the clothes from the floor, but now there were new dirty ones taking over the carpet. Obviously, Peter was a bit of a messy person living with an aunt who was a freak with a mop. Quentin wasn’t that organized either, but he didn’t have so much stuff in the first place. Once you grow up, you start throwing away the things you don’t really need.

Quentin wasn’t sure what he came to do here exactly. Minutes passed as he just looked around and walked in circles around the room, until his eyes got glued onto the floor.

Black boxers. Those were Peter’s underwear just laying on the floor, right by his feet. And nobody left their clean underwear on the floor.

He felt so dirty for even thinking about doing this. But he should be safe. Aunt May was most likely working, Peter was hanging out with his stupid friend. And Quentin had all the time in the world to relax.

Quentin grabbed onto the underwear, walked over to the bed and laid down onto his back. He moved the fabric close to his nose, then smelled. Then he pressed it over his mouth and nose, covering his face almost completely. God. Quentin had already told himself that he should calm down and respect Peter's privacy, but how could he when he was secretly in his room like this, desperate to fuck his sweet little ass again?

He was already so hard, maybe because of the adrenaline. Quentin wasted no time to open his pants and pull his cock out. If he was going to pull his cock out in public this often, he should start carrying lube in his pocket. 

With some spit in his hand, stroking yourself didn’t hurt too much. And Quentin stroked as fast as he could, hungrily thrusting against his hand. He squeezed his fingers a little tighter, then relaxed them, then squeezed them harder again, imagining it was Peter’s ass tightening around his cock again. It didn’t take even a minute for his hand to grow tired, so he moved it less and focused on doing the movement more with his hips.

Quentin inhaled strongly. Peter’s underwear didn’t smell as strong as he had wanted to, but when his nose was pressed against the right spot, he could smell something more than the dark fabric. He released quiet muffled moans against Peter’s underwear, his mouth starting to suck and lick onto the fabric. It tasted bad and the contact against his teeth made him shiver, but he kept going. When his tongue was moving and he was imagining using it on Peter, it made him grow closer to the edge.

“Oh, Peter … fuck, baby”, he panted out. His hips started slowing down but kept rolling up a little harder, his hand still perfectly massaging his erection. Quentin thanked God for his vivid imagination that made it easy to cum fast.

But God was never on his side long enough.

“God, I’m so fucking hungry. You mind if I go through your kitchen?” a young girl’s voice echoed around the halls.

“No, but -- You can’t eat just anything, or my aunt is gonna kill me.” 

Peter’s voice was so angelic that --

Wait. No. No no no. Not now.

Quentin panicked and got up immediately. How long had he been here? He only barely remembered the time he got in here. But if his memory was correct and Peter's clock was working, he had been touching himself for almost 30 minutes. Fuck. And Quentin had thought he was gonna do it quickly.

He had no idea where he should go, since he had Peter’s underwear between his fingers and an erection in his hand. He looked over at the window, but cursed when it was closed. He couldn’t get out without making sound. And he couldn’t go outside like this.

He listened. Peter and … someone else were in the kitchen, fighting over food. Quentin felt like he was having a panic attack.

He quickly jumped inside the small closet and closed the door, praying to God Peter wasn’t going to need a change of clothes -- Oh God, he was in Peter's wardrobe, surrounded by his scent. Quentin released a shaky breath.

Quentin pressed his feet strongly against the floor and leaned against the wall, making sure he could stand there for as long as needed. Then, Quentin froze completely. He held in his breath and stood completely still so he wouldn’t make a sound. His damn cock was still out, Peter’s underwear were still in his hand, and fuck it was hot in here. Quentin closed his eyes and started praying that he would survive this.

He heard people walk into the room, which made him hold his breath in even harder. Quentin listened and tried his best to stay quiet as he waited to get out of here.

“This sandwich is shit”, MJ mumbled as she sat on the bed, her legs wide open and her mouth full of bread.

“You’re the one who made it, don’t look at me”, Peter rolled his eyes as he pulled his chair out and sat down by his desk. His hands moved over the table, moving stuff out of the way as he was looking for something. “What notes do you exactly need? I have written everything down from every class.”

“Uh”, MJ tapped her foot against the floor. “All of them. I need pictures of all of them.”

“Well aren’t you dedicated to your school work”, Peter said sarcastically, which his friend took seriously, maybe even a bit proudly. Peter found his large notebook filled with all kinds of notes and gave it to MJ. “I have written on the left upper corner what class the notes are from. Do you think you can understand the handwriting?”

MJ opened the notebook, then nodded and pulled her phone out. “Yeah, it will do. Thanks, Peter.”

“No problem.”

Quentin stayed as silent as he could despite starting to feel extremely angry. He didn’t like MJ for some reason. Why was she in Peter’s room, pretending to take pictures of his notes, when Peter could have send those himself?

Damn, even anger didn’t get rid of his erection. This was bad.

“Have you thought about homecoming?” MJ asked as she continued taking pictures of all the notes, her eyes wide as she saw just how much stuff she had missed.

“We already had that”, Peter said quietly. He had opened his laptop and started doing his own things there to keep himself busy.

“I meant the next one, which is far away, but still worth to plan for”, MJ continued. “You wanna go?”

Peter chuckled quietly. “The last time I tried to go to a dance didn’t work out so well. I’ll just embarrass myself."

“Yeah, it sucks. But we could trash it and actually enjoy it?” 

MJ was acting odd. She was never interested in school activities. Not football, not dances, not club activity that took you to a field trip to another country. Learning was dumb in any possible way. But now she seemed too intrigued to go on a dance date that was months away.

Peter rolled in his chair and faced his friend. “Why would you wanna go to a dance with me?”

Instead of innocent eyes and red cheeks, MJ gave Peter a tired, annoyed look. Peter’s mouth opened a little as he caught up. “Oh. OH. A date? Me and you?”

“Yeah. Why not. I thought it could be fun”, MJ shrugged. “Or we could do something else a lot sooner. Whatever.”

Peter moved closer with his chair, his fingers starting to drum against his knees. “That sounds all fun and all, but … no, I can’t. I already have someone else to dance with.”

Quentin had jumped after hearing those words, and while it wasn’t appropriate for this moment, his cock twitched too, refusing to soften without a release. He wondered if he was the horny teenager of this relationship, and not Peter. He tried to learn closer to the door to hear the conversation better.

“Hah, I knew it”, MJ chuckled. She wore a proud smile and pretended she wasn’t hurt about being rejected. It was unclear if she actually wanted to go on a date, or if she had just pretended to ask Peter out just to see if he was single or not. “Who are you dating?”

“It’s … none of your business”, Peter stuttered. 

“I’m your friend. You can trust me. I told you about that one time me and Betty made out in the school bathroom, and that’s a huge secret”, MJ reminded him. “Besides, I ain’t gonna leave until you tell me.”

First, Peter released a nervous laugh, then a sigh. Then, he stood up, walked to close the bedroom door, and then moved back over to his chair. “Okay. Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“Promise, promise. Just tell me”, MJ coaxed him on.

Peter inhaled air strongly, then held his breath a little. “I’m seeing this guy I met at the Daily Bugle.”

MJ’s mouth flew wide open. “Your boss?!”

“No! Ew, no. A coworker. His name is Quentin”, Peter quickly shouted after. MJ seemed curious immediately.

“What’s he like?”

Peter wiggled in his seat a little, his legs pressing closer together. “Well, he is super fun and charming, and …”

“And … ?” MJ waited for an answer, so excited that she could barely stay on her seat.

“... He’s really good in bed”, Peter whispered. His friend immediately shrieked and started clapping, her feet drumming on the floor a little.

“Oh my God, Peter. You have to tell me everything …”

Quentin had no idea how he could get out of this situation. But a part of him didn’t want to. He knew this was wrong - It was super creepy to be hiding inside Peter’s closet, one hand holding his erection, and the other one protecting Peter’s dirty underwear. It was even creepier to be listening on their conversation, hearing Peter talk about him, and then touching yourself to all those compliments you got.

Yes, Quentin’s hand had started stroking again. Desperately, quickly, and so roughly it almost hurt. But he needed to cum or otherwise he couldn’t leave and face the outside world. And he also needed to get the hell out of here somehow without Peter noticing him.

It was like one of those very, very dirty dreams you had that you fucking loved, but didn’t want to happen in real life. The danger of being caught was far too real, but at the same time it gave Quentin the adrenaline to make it all so exciting. He felt like he was back on business, ready to cum again the more he listened in.

Peter’s voice was a little squeaky as he told MJ about the night he lost his virginity. Peter first started with the kiss and the scene that lead to it, telling a detailed story on how kissing Quentin had felt like. Moist, desperate and sexy, yet still so full of emotion. Peter had even described how his legs had started to feel weak and how he had felt like he was going to faint.

Quentin felt so proud of himself for being able to make Peter feel that good. So, he pressed Peter’s underwear against his face, some of the fabric being sucked between his teeth to help him stay quiet, and he continued stroking. The rest of his body was still as a rock, because he didn’t want to make any sounds. That’s why he couldn’t stroke himself too fast, but who cared. This situation was making him climb to the edge easily.

“So … is it too much to ask what the sex was like?” MJ smiled awkwardly. “I mean, it’s your choice to tell or not. I’m just wondering if it’s like in porn.”

Peter laughed awkwardly, again, obviously sweating a little under his shirt. “Well, it wasn’t as extreme as in porn. Those videos are always unrealistic. But … fuck, _hewassofuckinggood_.”

MJ giggled like a little girl, almost falling from her seat. “How good?”

“Good enough to make me cum twice”, Peter said without thinking, then quickly covered his face in embarrassment. “Fuck, I’m really falling for Quentin.”

That’s it. That’s it. Quentin bit down onto the fabric and inhaled strongly, and then he went over the edge, spilling his cum down onto the floor and over his hand. Bad choice, but he didn’t even have the time to react properly. He almost stumbled a little, but forced himself to stay standing as the euphoric feeling left his body as quickly as it had came. Then, Quentin quickly tugged himself into his pants, ignoring the mess, then buried Peter’s underwear into his jacket’s pocket. Didn’t look suspicious at all.

Quietly as he could, he pulled out his phone, turned it on silent and decided to text Peter. He needed a way out of here, and telling Peter to go out right now was the only idea that came into his head.

**_Quentin_ **

_Hey, angel. I have a surprise for you. Meet me outside your place in 5 minutes._

Quentin straightened his glasses better on his nose and just prayed that Peter didn’t plan on changing something better on.

Peter’s phone buzzed and after reading the message - and showing it to MJ -, he almost freaked out. “Sorry, MJ. I think my boyfriend comes before you”, he said.

“That’s perfectly fine. You two seem really cute”, MJ smiled to him, giving a cheerful tap on Peter’s shoulder. “Do you have a photo of him?”

“Uh … I do have one”, Peter said. He tilted his phone so MJ couldn’t see the screen, then showed it to her again when he had opened a picture of Quentin Beck, focusing on his work, not even realizing Peter had snapped a picture.

“Papa, paparazzi~", MJ started to sign that old Lady Gaga song, then burst into laughter when Peter had hit her playfully. “He’s cute. Didn’t know you were into older guys.”

“Shut up”, Peter mumbled before standing up. “Okay, we should get out now. I want to see him.”

After yelling out _‘adorableeeeeeee’,_ MJ headed over to the bathroom quickly. Peter stayed in his room, just looking through his photo album in his phone.

Then, Peter looked over at his closet, debating whether he should open it or not. He took a deep breath and took only one step closer to it, then stopped. Peter swallowed strongly.

Once MJ was done, both of them left the apartment and headed outside.

The second Quentin was sure it was safe to come out, he stumbled out of the closet and headed over to the window. He climbed out, closed the window behind him and then started rushing down the fire escape.

Luckily his car wasn’t parked in front of the building Peter lived in, but more to the side. When Quentin came from behind the corner, it looked like he had just parked on the side of the road. He saw Peter chatting with MJ on the sidewalk, and the moment they locked eyes, Peter started walking towards him.

“Hey, what’s up --”

Peter didn’t get much out of his mouth when Quentin’s hands moved to cup his cheeks and pulled him into a strong kiss. Peter was obviously surprised, but he melted right into his arms just like that. Quentin could hear MJ giggling at them a little, and that was the point. He wanted MJ to see that Peter Parker belonged to him, and only him.

When he pulled back, Quentin gave him the widest smile he could. “I’m sorry, I just … I got off work early and I … I just wanted to see you.”

Peter blushed strongly. “I wanted to see you, too.”

MJ slowly walked up to them, and once she was no longer invisible, she introduced herself as Peter’s friend and classmate. Not like Quentin already didn’t know that.

“I’m Quentin Beck. I work at the Daily Bugle”, Quentin introduced himself, just to be polite.

“I know”, MJ said. “Peter has a big mouth.”

“My God, shut up.”

Quentin felt so, so goddamn awkward talking to Peter and MJ after what had happened. He still felt weird in his pants, and the adrenaline was still pumping strongly in his veins. And he felt this odd anger towards MJ. Luckily, the girl got the hint and hugged Peter before starting to walk to another direction, leaving the two of them alone. Finally.

Still blushing wildly, Peter turned towards Quentin. “So, what’s the surprise?”

Fuck, the surprise. Quentin had used it just as an excuse to get himself free, but he hadn’t had the time to actually come up with a surprise. “Uh”, was the only thing he managed to say as he quickly thought of something.

“Well, I thought we could go on a date”, Quentin spat out, burying his hands into his pockets, one of them holding Peter’s underwear. His fingers automatically squeezed around his boxers and buried them deeper into the pocket so they wouldn’t fall out. “Unless you’re busy. I know this came out of nowhere, but I just really wanted to surprise you somehow.”

Without a word, Peter tiptoed and kissed Quentin again, his arms now wrapping tightly around him. “I’d love to go on a date”, he smiled. “There’s this movie I want to see. We could first go eat somewhere and then check if the movie is playing tonight?”

Peter was luckily a team player. Now Quentin didn’t have to think where they should go on a date. Peter should always plan their dates from now on. “Sounds perfect to me. Come on, my car is over here.”

Quentin hoped the restaurant they were going would have a bathroom so he could clean himself up a little.

\--

A little bit over four hours later, their date was over. Time had went far too fast for Quentin's liking, but all things must come to an end.

Their dinner date had went well. The restaurant they ended up stopping by was alright, even if neither of them liked their meals that much. Quentin hadn't really cared about the food, but more of cleaning himself in the bathroom and making sure the underwear in his pocket wouldn't fall out. Peter wasn't a big fan of his meal either, but he seemed more focus on having a conversation with Quentin. The kid actually seemed interested in him as a person, which was a very good sign. Quentin was happy to open up about his life, and in return hear more about Peter.

The movie they went to see was so not in Quentin's taste. It was some action flick that had too much action and too little story. But Peter seemed to enjoy it a lot, so that's all that mattered. 

Their hands had been locked together the whole movie. Even if their hands got a little sweaty, they both just laughed it off and kept on holding onto each other, fingers caressing each other's skin. This is what Quentin wanted. He just wanted to be close to Peter, and it didn't matter how. Simply holding his hand made Quentin feel more alive.

As Quentin parked in front of Peter's home, he turned the engine off and turned over to his boyfriend. Without a word, Peter leaned closer and kissed him, much stronger than before. Quentin immediately took his hint and kissed him back, his hand landing on top of Peter's thigh. Quentin immediately noticed something - Peter was desperate. He was quietly muffling and whimpering against the kiss, his hands were traveling over Quentin's body, and his mouth stayed open, yearning for some tongue action. When Quentin's tongue stroked over his, Peter almost moaned and his hips bucked up. 

Usually, Quentin's hand would already be cupping Peter through his pants. But tonight he decided to pull back.

"I thought we agreed to go slowly?" he teased the kid, who turned so red even the tips of his ears flushed bright.

"I know. I just get really excited with you", Peter said bluntly. If Quentin hadn't touched himself today already, he sure as hell would be sucking Peter off right now. But he had self-control ... For now. And like he had said to himself before, he didn't want to ruin their relationship and make it only sexual. He wanted to do this right.

"You're adorable", Quentin purred. "Well, I can give you something small to think about."

With that, Quentin leaned in and started pressing kisses against Peter's neck. The kid immediately melted against him, his mouth panting open and his head tilted to the side so Quentin had better access. He nibbled on his skin gently, then sucked a little, then returned to gentle kissing. Then, Quentin bit down and earned a soft moan from Peter, before he pulled back. "You should get inside or otherwise I won't be able to stop myself", Quentin said.

Peter rubbed his face and whined in defeat, but then he forced himself to laugh. "Fine, fine. Thank you for the date. I really enjoyed it."

Peter leaned in for another kiss, this time holding his tongue back. Quentin kissed him back happily, memorizing the taste of his lips. Who knows when he had the chance to kiss him again. "I'll text you when I get home. Bye."

"Bye bye."

Quentin watched as Peter went inside, safe and sound. 

For a moment, he felt the happiest man alive.

But then he remembered MJ, and anger filled him. He felt jealous, yes, he admitted that. But it wasn't just jealousy that he felt. Quentin felt like this girl was a threat that tried to pry herself between him and Peter.

Quentin gritted his teeth strongly as he turned his car back on and started driving home a little bit over the speeding limit.

He had to find a way to get MJ out of the picture once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read through this on mobile and decided to post it, fuck it. After this chapter I'm gonna take a small break from this to write another fanfiction. Stay tuned!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to cut this chapter into two parts because a) it was taking me a while to update and b) it would have been too long probably

Michelle Jones was not too open about her private life on the internet, but her whole Instagram account gave Quentin all the information he needed about her.

First of all, MJ wasn’t like the other girls. You know, the girls who did make-up, dressed pretty, went shopping, the whole ordeal of a teenage girl you see in movies like Mean Girls for example. MJ was some sort of a tomboy, which meant that MJ ‘acted like a boy’. She dressed up in baggy clothes, had no fashion sense, wore no make-up at all, had her messy hair either free or in a lazy ponytail, and all together she seemed to get along better with boys than other girls her age. It seemed like that maybe she actually didn’t have a crush on Peter, but were just really good friends with him, and just wanted to do everything with him, as friends. But Quentin wasn’t going to take that risk.

MJ liked horror movies, and everything else related to horror. A lot of her posts on Tumblr (a hell site Quentin never wanted to visit again) were somehow related to something dark, like real life murders and conspiracy theories. She knew a lot about history, as long as it was related to something horrifying, like natural disasters, massacres, crimes … all kinds of fun stuff. Her not-so-secret account just screamed 'edgy'.

She only showed her face on Instagram. A few selfies were there and there, going up from 300 likes even over 1000 likes. One selfie was helpful to Quentin - It was a picture of MJ with a cap on, looking away from the camera, and behind her there was a skate park located in this very city. Quentin had never went there before, but a quick search gave him the location. It was far away, but Quentin didn't care about that.

After figuring out the location of that park, he waited and stalked MJ's social medias until finally a post came up on Twitter, saying something along the lines of _‘Gonna try a new trick with my skateboard tomorrow. Should I film it and make a compilation of all the fails? lol’_

Stalking someone was so much easier nowadays when you had the internet making everything easy. In one night, Quentin had managed to find MJ’s social medias, the places she visited, and the place where she would be tomorrow. Maybe next time MJ will be more careful about what she posts on the internet.

\--

So, Quentin Beck followed MJ after school in the same way he always followed Peter. She went to a different direction, walked for a long while - long enough to make Quentin’s feet ache a little -, before stopping at a store, ordering a slushie and a candy bar, then stepping out and continuing her way. She seemed to like walking more than taking a bus ride which would have made this trip pass much faster, but Quentin couldn’t complain. Next time he would know MJ’s daily route and he could just wait for her somewhere, inside his parked car.

MJ’s next stop was her home, he assumed, where she went to drop her stuff, change clothes, eat a snack most likely, then head out with a skateboard. Following someone who was on a skateboard was much harder, and Quentin started to regret for following her on foot.

But then, finally, she stopped at the skate park and started … doing whatever skaters do. Just going around in circles, doing a few tricks, falling down a couple of times but always getting back up. Quentin didn’t see the hype in skateboarding, but he understood why people liked it. For a while, he wanted to just go and join them, just so he would have something to do. But he held himself back, knowing an adult trying to skateboard with some teens would look weird. Besides, MJ knew him. So Quentin kept his distance, watching, and hoping that his phone battery wouldn't die.

Hours passed. MJ was most of the time on her own, then sometimes she took a break and talked to the boys who were there at the park, then skateboarded again. Quentin spend the first two hours at the edge of the park, looking in and pretending he was waiting for the bus, but then he had went to the other side of the road and entered a cafe. He ordered a coffee, sat by the window and kept his eyes locked on the other side of the street, watching MJ. When the sun was starting to set, MJ started heading home, Quentin following right after her. 

And just like that, he had spend most of his day following a girl without being able to get his hands on her. At no point was MJ alone at all, so Quentin couldn’t … What was he planning to do in the first place? Right. He had planned to attack her. There was this rage inside of him that needed to get out, and the only way to do that was to somehow hurt the person who was trying to steal away his precious Peter Parker. But for today, MJ was safe. Only for today.

Quentin went back home, sad and defeated, trying to figure out how in the hell was he going to get MJ out of the picture.

\--

“This painting kinda looks like you.”

“It’s a picture of a gorilla, what are you … Oh, I see. Millennial humor. Haha.”

Art galleries were not Quentin’s favorite place to go. He wasn’t that familiar with art, despite being a photographer. He didn’t really have that artistic eye like some people did. When he would see a painting, he would either think it’s well done or badly done, and not spend even a second thinking if the art piece had some kind of a meaning or a story behind it. Modern art was the weirdest because these days anything could be considered art. Back then, artists always painted portraits or sceneries or stories taken from the bible. These days, the paintings captured much more, something that Quentin just couldn’t wrap a finger around.

So why the hell was he in an art gallery with Peter Parker?

“Try to enjoy this. It’s a date, after all”, Peter said, squeezing Quentin’s hand. That was the only good thing about this date. This was their first time holding hands in public. So far, no one had really paid attention to them or to the fact that they were two men with an obvious age difference. They were considered normal, just like anyone else.

“Oh, I am loving every second, darling”, Quentin said and faked a large smile. Peter giggled from the pet name and then dropped the subject.

It was Peter’s idea to come here. He had suggested going on a date, and since he wanted to always try something new, he send a whole list of date ideas for them. They were all actually really good, and Quentin had a hard time deciding which one was the best. So he had just picked an art gallery date, because those are always cute and educational. Quentin had decided the place and bought the tickets, but now he felt like he should have checked the gallery better. This wasn’t a show of some famous artist’s works like Vincent van Gogh’s paintings - who was the only artist Quentin could name -, but this was some opening day for multiple small artists who had rented an area of this gallery for themselves. Their paintings, drawings and little sculptures sure were … interesting. As they moved on from the weird painting of a gorilla with a bright yellow background, there were quick sketches of a nude woman, all of them looking like someone had drawn them with their eyes closed. Then there was a large piece of paper with only a few strokes of color on it, and that was somehow considered to be worthy of thousands of dollars. As they continued walking around the gallery, more art that Quentin didn’t, or refused to, understand faced them. Small little statues made of food were on the floor in one corner, then there was some kind of a spider’s web made out of red rope, definitely inspired by Spider-Man. Last but not least, there was a life-size statue of a person whose hand you could shake, but the whole thing looked so fragile that they decided not to touch it.

“Modern art is quite interesting”, Peter had commented maybe 10 times by now. “It’s fun to see how people burst their inspiration out in different ways.”

“I’ll be honest, Peter. I don’t understand art at all”, Quentin said with an awkward chuckle. And Peter just laughed at him until his cheeks turned red.

“Is art confusing you?” Peter had asked. And if Quentin was honest, he didn’t really care about the art itself, knowing fully well how rude that was to say out loud. He only liked this date because he got to be with Peter, got to hold his hand and laugh with him. Despite not being a big fan of art galleries, he wouldn’t call this a bad date. No bad dates existed when he was with Peter.

At the end of their little tour, they ended up spending more time at the overpriced cafe that sold only coffee, some donuts and old candy that they were too afraid to taste. 

Quentin had to take Peter home earlier today because he was seriously falling behind at work thanks to him spending all of his time watching people like a damn spy. Tonight he would have to do his best to work hard so Jameson doesn’t damn fire him. Peter was understanding, as he always was, and promised to put a good word on Quentin so maybe Jameson would go easier on him. Peter taking care of him like that made him feel warm in his heart, and as he parked his car, he couldn’t help but pull Peter into a long kiss as a way to thank him.

They only got to make out for a few minutes until Peter’s phone started being filled up with messages, and he pulled away to read them. “Sorry, it’s MJ. She’s sending pictures of the sky again”, Peter smiled.

“Why?” Quentin asked. He ended up looking out of the window to see the sky himself. The sun was setting indeed, making the sky glow in nice colors like pink and orange. But the pictures MJ had sent had a much better view of the sky than the two of them had in their car.

“She just likes the way the sky changes”, Peter said as he typed something with his fast thumbs, not even bothering to hide his text messages away, not even when Quentin was obviously leaning over. Good. That meant Peter trusted him, and that gave more information to Quentin.

A message popped up soon after from MJ, reading: _“I heard the sky is gonna stay clear tonight. Guess who’s gonna take shitty pics of the stars? Can't wait to blow up from the few likes I'll get.”_

Quentin licked his lips. He cracked his knuckles a few times. His toes curled inside his shoes until they cracked too. He knew he shouldn’t, but he wanted so so badly. Knowing MJ was gonna stay out late tonight to take stupid pictures of the sky made Quentin want to find her, to capture her, to hurt her. Just in case she was going to make another move on Peter. But a part of Quentin's brain - the good side of him - told him to just drop it and let MJ go. Quentin didn't know how to fight against his urges, though, so he tried to ignore that angelic voice and focus on his plan called _'Get Rid of MJ.'_

“Where does she take such good pictures of the sunset? Even I’m jealous of her photographing skills”, Quentin commented, lying about the last part just to get an answer to MJ’s whereabouts.

“She’s always at this skate park with her old friends who go to a different school. I assume she's there again”, Peter asked without taking his eyes away from his phone. He texted: _‘Stay safe’,_ and then MJ send three heart emojis as an answer.

Yeah, she needed to die for that.

“We should go stargazing some night”, Peter suggested, finally putting his phone back into his pocket and turning his attention over to Quentin, right where his attention should always be.

“Stargazing?” Quentin repeated.

“Yeah. Just go out somewhere, lay down on the grass and look up at the stars when it’s dark”, Peter explained. Then he leaned closer and his right hand pressed flat against Quentin’s chest, then moved higher until his fingers were playing with the buttons of his shirt. “And we could … do something else, too.”

Peter was so easy to read when he was a little horny like this. All he had to do was to open one button from Quentin’s shirt and caress his skin with a single finger, and it was obvious that Peter wanted him. His lips were slightly parted like he was ready to be kissed, his cheeks were a little flushed, and his eyes were half-lidded, lustful, needy. God, Quentin wished he could just take Peter to the backseat and fuck him real nice and slow.

But he had other plans tonight. He had to get to the skate park and follow MJ as he had done before and see if there is a moment when he and her could be alone. And then he would strike.

“Mmh, I quite like that idea”, Quentin whispered back to Peter and leaned closer, first giving a tiny kiss on Peter’s mouth, then trailing his lips over to his ear. “I’ve missed touching you.”

“So touch me”, Peter said, his voice already breathless, and eyes fully closed. His hand rubbed Quentin’s thigh eagerly, moving closer and closer to his crotch with each stroke. But Quentin stopped his hand and locked their fingers together. 

“Soon. But tonight I really don’t have time”, Quentin said back to him. But God, did he miss touching Peter like that. This damn kid was like a damn drug - No matter what the two of them did, it was never enough. And denying him literally made his heart ache.

“Just a little”, Peter almost begged, giving a pair of puppy eyes. “Give me something to think about tonight.”

“Something to think about, huh …”

Quentin really would like to hear about Peter’s little adventure later when his job was finished. And how could he even deny such a request? Even he started to feel flustered, and it was getting so hard to not just suck Peter off right here and now. So, he moved his hand between Peter’s legs and cupped him through his pants. The kid wasn't even hard yet, but he seemed excited to be touched. In fact, Peter released a soft moan and rolled his hips upward, begging to feel more contact. God, what a horny little bastard that was someday going to kill Quentin.

“If you’re gonna touch yourself tonight, then I want you to imagine what you’d like me to do to you”, Quentin’s voice dropped low as he rubbed his hand down harder, gazing deeply into Peter’s eyes, watching his mouth lock open and release a heavy breath. “And the next time we’re together, I’ll do anything you want me to do. I’ll make your little fantasy come true.”

Quentin was always going to do everything for Peter. He was going to touch him everywhere in every possible way. He was going to go on multiple dates, anywhere Peter wanted to go. He would listen and be there for Peter. He would touch Peter whenever he wanted to be touched. He would obey Peter like a slave. He would get rid of the people who opposed against their relationship or were trying to steal Peter away from them. He would _kill_ in order to protect their love.

“Okay”, Peter nodded strongly. “I’ll think about you tonight. I always do.”

Quentin slid his hand away and kissed his boyfriend lovingly before allowing him to finally leave. He couldn’t help but laugh as he saw Peter move his backpack over his crotch and jog inside, dropping the keys at the door. He was adorable. Quentin smiled, drumming his fingers down against the steering wheel in excitement, awaiting to hear from Peter later tonight.

But first, he had business to do. 

\--

These days, it wasn’t safe for anyone to be walking outside alone when it was getting late. Especially for a young woman like Michelle Jones, who held her chin too high and believed she would be fine. 

Quentin felt like a creep watching her. The sky had gotten dark already, and the world would be a lot darker if it wasn’t for those street lights that illuminated a safer feeling on the streets. And MJ was all alone in the skate park, believing no one was watching her from the shadows. She did some tricks, fell down a lot, nailed one trick and raised her arms up as to show off her victory. Then she stopped and started taking pictures of the sky, cursing because most likely all of her photos were just black. Quentin shook his head at her and silently watched as the girl sat down and started playing with her phone.

He had went through his plan over multiple times, still unable to finish it. The area seemed empty. A few people had walked past him, two cars were parked near him, a bus had stopped and asked if he wanted to come in, he had declined. If he was lucky, the coast was going to be clear and nobody would see them. But what the hell was he gonna do? Kill her? Heaven’s no. The longer Quentin just stood by the road, the more weirder this whole thing felt. He must have been noticed already. Even if he was standing by the bus stop, he still looked as suspicious as a person could look. His hoodie was up, his hands were down in his pockets, and he had his stupid camera hanging from his neck for whatever reason. Quentin sighed. This plan felt stupid. Quentin didn’t even have a weapon with him.

With a sigh, Quentin started to walk around the skate park to get to the other entrance. His heart started beating as he calculated every step he had taken and was about to take. He would enter the park, quietly walk behind MJ and … and what? No, he shouldn’t do this. He shouldn’t. Peter wouldn’t leave him. He trusted Peter to love him and only him. MJ wasn't going to be dangerous.

Quentin entered the park and started walking towards the girl, his hands deep in his pockets. MJ was listening to music, or so he thought since she had her headphones in. Her skateboard was under her feet, moving side to side in a steady rhythm like the girl was pretending to be standing and swinging side to side. Her eyes were glued to her phone. Her shoulders were raised high up and she seemed tense, like she was freezing. It was getting a little cold, indeed.

Quentin started coming closer to her. Closer, and closer. His stomach started to ache as he quickly gazed around, to his luck not spotting anybody nearby.

He was soon going to pass by MJ, and he had no idea what he was going to do. Threaten her to stay away from Peter Parker? No, she would recognize his voice. Knock her out? Kill her? Kidnap her? No, no, no, oh God, no. _‘Jesus fucking Christ, what am I doing?’_ Quentin thought to himself. He was growing more anxious with each step. Only a few more steps until he would be directly behind MJ. Only a few steps more and he could just walk past her, get to his car and go home and forget about this unhealthy obsession.

That’s what he was going to do. This was insane and far too risky. He couldn't do this --

Quentin suddenly stopped behind MJ and just stared. His hands moved into tight fists and he swallowed. He could just barely see what she was doing on her phone - changing the song, then moving over to her album. She opened a picture that Quentin couldn’t see properly because of the distance, but he swore the blurry image looked like a boy.

Anger took control of his whole body.

Quentin grabbed onto his camera. He moved the strap over his head and lifted his arm that was holding onto the camera. He ran towards MJ and just as she was turning her head to see if someone was behind her, Quentin smacked his camera right against her temple as hard as he could.

_Crack. Thud._

Glass shattered, some small pieces of his camera broke and dropped onto the ground right after MJ’s unconscious body. Her skateboard went flying away and her body didn’t move. A small spatter of blood had left its mark on Quentin’s camera. 

And then it was silent.

Now he was running. He ran until he was so out of breath his lungs hurt and his mouth was salivating. Quentin rushed over to his car, dropped his keys, cursed and finally opened the door, stepping inside and driving away. His legs and hands were shaking like tree brands on a stormy night as he drove home, his broken camera seated next to him. When he finally parked and turned off his car, Quentin allowed the tears to come out, letting an uncontrollable sob break out of his throat. He smacked his hands against the steering wheel, screamed until his voice cracked, kicked his feet around, punched himself on the thigh hard enough to bruise himself -- Until he finally grew tired, exhausted, and let his head drop down.

His body was covered in sweat. His body felt tired, his muscles tingling weirdly. Ferocious thoughts filled his head - _‘Go and finish the job. Make sure she is dead, gone. Out of the picture’_. Quentin smacked his hands against his head and screamed _‘shut up’_ over and over again. More tears came out until there was nothing left of him, only an empty shell.

He needed to take a shower and buy a new camera. Tomorrow, he had to face the world like nothing had happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to add my moodboard for this fic at the end lol


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahaha i'm depressed and in bad health but hey i managed to update you're welcome enjoy small sex scene ahead

_ Jealousy generally refers to the thoughts or feelings of insecurity, fear, and concern over a relative lack of possessions. _

  
  


Quentin Beck had started to realize what he was growing into. He spend most of the night just sitting in the kitchen, drinking, gazing out of the window and thinking about his own actions. He felt like he was the bad guy in a film, if this story was to be made into a movie. The more he drank, the more self-aware he became. Maybe his obsession over Peter had grown far too strong. Maybe he was sick. But more than that, Quentin was lost.

For some reason, Quentin was afraid to go to sleep because he was expecting the police to come knocking on his door. For a few hours he had been just crying about it, not even planning to run away, to just accept his fate peacefully. One part of him did want to pack his stuff and run, but his body wasn’t able to move. To his luck, no sirens were heard tonight, at least not in his neighborhood. It made Quentin feel a little bit at ease, a little less guilty.

Jesus, he had attacked someone just because he couldn’t control his jealousy. That’s what this was, right? Quentin wasn’t sure what made him be so obsessed over Peter Parker that he had ended up hurting someone. Was he that fucked up in the head? Was he ill? Why couldn’t he control these urges, and where did they come from in the first place?

How did one young man fuck him up this bad?

Quentin did think about leaving, moving away, running the hell out of New York, just to avoid all this mess and have a chance to heal, to become ‘normal’. But he knew Peter - or most likely Spider-Man - would be clever enough to put the pieces together and come after him, either to arrest him or to just find him. After all, Peter seemed to really like him. So Quentin decided not to leave. Not because he was afraid of starting over, but because he didn’t want to let go of Peter. Not yet.

After he had drank the last of his alcohol, he had come to a conclusion. He was in love. He was so in love that he would commit a crime to keep that love going until he and Peter would die old together. He would eliminate everything and everyone that would try and stop their love. Quentin started to wonder if he had ever been in love like this. He hadn’t. He hadn’t even been in love. Sure, he had dated, but he had never felt so strongly towards another person. Why was Peter so different? 

Why him, out of all people? Why did he fall in love with Spider-Man?

Before Quentin had fallen asleep, he moved everything related to Peter - all the photos of him, his tacky shirt, the destroyed camera, the cut out newspapers - inside his office, and closed the door, telling himself to never look there again.

  
  
  


\--

  
  
  


Two days later Quentin finally returned to work, and he swore he was still hangover as hell. He sure as hell felt like shit. Quentin has been a nervous wreck ever since he stepped back into the office, knowing well that today he would have to face Peter again. All he could hope that he could keep his mask on and act normal without him noticing that Quentin was a damn mess.

Peter had send him a message that night, as he had promised.  _ “So … I had fun tonight. Do you want me to tell you what I was fantasizing about now or … face to face?”  _ he had texted him. Quentin had felt too guilty to answer that. Maybe he should have. But he couldn't act sexual when he had just hit someone in the damn head.

If he had answered that message, Peter wouldn’t look so worried about him once he stepped into the office.

“Oh, you’re okay”, Peter had said quietly as he literally ran up to Quentin and hugged him so hard that his legs raised up from the floor. Quentin had to hold him back or else they would have fallen. His coworkers gave them odd looks which made Quentin put Peter back down onto the ground before Peter would suddenly force himself to stay in his arms. “You didn’t answer my message.”

“I’m sorry”, Quentin said. This time he had no excuse, lie, or a story to back him up, so he was just going to tell half of the truth. “I was … feeling really bad, so I isolated myself. I’m better now, I promise.”

Peter took a chair for himself and sat as close enough as he could, their legs pressing against each other. “Seems like we both had a couple of rough days”, he said quietly, holding onto both of Quentin’s hands. Peter's hands felt cold.

“Do you wanna tell me what was bothering you?” Quentin asked quietly. His jaw tightened just from the thought of Peter mentioning MJ. 

And Peter did mention her. He first of course talked about feeling disappointed and sad that Quentin hadn’t answered him, because Peter had felt like he had done something wrong. Then, he had of course heard what happened to MJ. Based on the story Peter had heard, probably straight from MJ, someone had attacked her and knocked her out. Someone had found MJ and called the ambulance, so she must have been alone only for an hour, perhaps. The wound on her head was deep enough to bleed, but not serious enough to create any damage on her. Just a scar that didn’t even need stitches. Quentin felt a bit relieved to know he hadn't killed her, and that he hadn’t been caught yet. Maybe he never would be caught, since the damage he had done wasn't as serious as he had thought.

“I’m scared, Quentin.” Peter squeezed the man’s hands tighter. “I’m scared that one of my friends is gonna get hurt again.”

This was bad. Spider-Man himself was afraid of some guy who hit his friend, and he had fought against all kinds of criminals. It was unusual for a superhero to be afraid. Or maybe Spider-Man wasn’t afraid, just an emotional wreck currently. Ignoring the fact that they were still in the office, surrounded by people who were trying to work, Quentin moved his hands onto Peter’s cheeks and wiped his tears away with his thumbs. 

“Hey, it’s okay to be afraid. Anyone in your position would be”, he tried to comfort him. More tears came out.

“Everyone expects so much from me”, Peter’s voice cracked and then faded away completely. Quentin pulled him into a tight hug as an attempt to cheer him up, and also try to keep Peter’s tears hidden. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You don’t have to do anything, Peter.” Quentin rubbed his back in slow strokes of his hand, trying to keep his voice down so no one could hear them. He closed his eyes, pretending it was just the two of them, just for a moment. “You gotta think about yourself first. Do something for yourself. You can’t always please everyone, no matter how hard you try.”

With a strong sniff, Peter pulled back and quickly wiped his tears away with the sleeves of his hoodie. “I should look after myself?” he asked.

“Yes!” Quentin moved his hand back to cup Peter’s reddish cheek. “I can tell you have a lot on your plate. You deserve a break. First take care of yourself, then others.”

Peter swallowed, licked his lips, then his eyes kept looking into different directions until they finally managed to look back into Quentin’s eyes. “Then ... Can I stay the night at your place?”

Quentin honestly didn’t feel so sure about that. Since the last time he saw Peter - and after his attack on his innocent friend -, Quentin had been debating if he should stay in this relationship or not. But when he saw Peter look at him with those teary eyes, he came back to his old, possessive self. All he wanted was to please Peter, to be his protector, to make him happy. And so he would.  “Yes”, Quentin said with a heartfelt smile. “You can.”

Without even thinking, he leaned closer and planted a chaste kiss against Peter’s forehead, only to pull back a few seconds after when he remembered they were in public. Some of his coworkers were still looking at their direction every now and then, obviously listening in, but right now Quentin didn't give a shit. He just smiled at Peter who giggled shyly, looked around, then came closer and lowered his voice: “I’ll come by in the evening, then.”

“We can go to my place together after work --”

Peter placed a finger over his lips. “I have some stuff to do before I come over. Just wait at home for me, okay? I’ll come.”

Quentin smiled. He would feel better if he could go and pick Peter up, just to make sure he was going to be safe, but if Peter insisted coming by himself, then that worked just fine. It was sweet to know Peter already had memorized his address. “I’ll wait for you, then”, Quentin said, took Peter’s hand and kissed his fingers before trying to focus on work. 

  
  


\--

  
  


Quentin was almost anxious as he waited for Peter to ring his doorbell. Three hours had passed, the sun was getting low, it was getting quieter. Quentin sat on his couch and started to feel like that maybe Peter was never going to come. He wasn’t sure why he felt that way. Now that he had committed a crime, and a serious one at that, everything felt like it was falling apart. He didn’t want to lose Peter. He couldn’t lose him, not when they had just started dating and had so much to look forward to. He couldn't even do anything else but just sit on the couch and stare at the floor, fiddling with his thumbs as he waited for Peter to come. If he was going to make it. Maybe something had happened to Spider-Man. Maybe he had gotten hurt. Maybe --

The moment he heard the doorbell rang, Quentin’s fear of losing his lover only increased for some reason. He ran to the door, unlocked it, opened it, and there he was, brighter than ever. Peter had his backpack hanging over his shoulder, most likely hiding inside whatever he needed to stay the night at someone’s place, and maybe his Spider-Man suit, who knows. 

Without a word, he pulled Peter inside, slammed the door shut and then pushed Peter against the door, locking their lips together so hard that it fucking hurt. Peter just giggled against the kiss, then went serious and parted his lips more to allow Quentin’s tongue stroke against his. The backpack fell onto the floor, then Peter’s jacket. And then Quentin’s hands were all over his body. Peter didn't flinch away from his touch which meant he wasn't hurt anywhere. In fact, Peter was just leaning closer to him, desperate for more. 

“I was worried”, Quentin muttered against the kiss, never stopping, only taking quick breaks to talk or breathe. “I missed you. So much.”

“Quent--mmmh”, was the only thing Peter managed to say before Quentin’s tongue forced itself inside his mouth, and then the boy was practically melting, his knees clacking against each other before Quentin's own leg moved between them. When Quentin finally pulled back, he pressed their foreheads together and held strongly onto Peter’s hips.

“Tell me about it”, Quentin breathed out.

“What?”

“What you fantasized about that night when you touched yourself”, Quentin reminded him, his thumbs rubbing down onto Peter’s sides. “I want to hear it.”

Peter grew so flustered so fast. He tilted his head to the side and closed his eyes, his chest rising heavily up and down, up and down. Quentin swore he could almost hear the boy's heart rate pick up. “Oh God”, he panted out, his cheeks already growing a little warm. “I … I first imagined … sucking you off …”

“Mmmh … Tell me more”, Quentin said as he leaned closer to mouth against Peter’s neck, his hands slipping underneath his shirt at the same time. Yes, this distracted Quentin perfectly. He no longer felt sad, or paranoid, or afraid. He just felt needy, and loved. He wanted to show that love to Peter, to make him see how much he mattered to Quentin and how he would do anything, _anything,_ for him.

“I imagined you guiding me, h-holding onto my hair … teaching me how it’s done”, Peter did his best to keep his voice steady, but it was obvious how dry his throat felt and how hard it was for him to talk without embarrassment taking over his full body. When Quentin's teeth pressed against his neck, Peter released a soft gasp. “ _Quentin_.”

“Did you fantasize about anything else? Mmh?” Quentin’s mouth traveled as low as it could go until his chin brushed against the collar of Peter’s shirt, before slowly moving back up, his lips following his soft jawline, mouthing right under it. Peter almost lost his balance but quickly kicked his feet to get back up. His hands were clutching onto Quentin, pulling at his shirt.

“I imagined you … doing the same to me expect … expect …”

“Expect … what?” Quentin whispered, his hands moving further up under his shirt, caressing his slender yet muscular body, memorizing how each inch felt like under his fingertips. His thumbs stroked over Peter's nipple, and to that Peter reacted much stronger than before. His whole body jumped a little from such a simple touch.

“Your mouth was .. lower”, Peter’s voice became squeaky, high pitched, kitten-like. It made Quentin release a deep chuckle.

Quentin stroked his tongue from Peter’s neck up to his ear, feeling so dirty from doing that and a little bit silly, but he knew Peter liked it when he shuddered under his form. “Where was my mouth, Peter?” he asked, releasing his words right into the boy’s ear. “Where was I kissing you, licking you, eating you?”

Peter swallowed. “M-my butt.”

“Your  _ butt _ ?” Quentin laughed. God, such an innocent, yet dirty confession. Peter had sounded so adorable when he had said it. “You imagined my mouth down there?”

Peter could only nod at this point, and Quentin knew he had teased enough. He could feel how hard Peter already was when he pushed his leg between his thighs and held it high enough to meet with Peter’s crotch. Peter was so hard he must have been leaking all over his underwear already. “Follow me”, Quentin said as he grabbed Peter by the wrist and started pulling him towards the bedroom. Peter didn’t have to be told twice.

  
  


Peter’s clothes were the first to drop on the floor, leaving him fully naked while Quentin kept his clothes on. Peter had called him 'eager', but he hadn't told Quentin to slow down. He wasn’t sure why he was rushing - Maybe Quentin was just so desperate to touch Peter because for some reason it felt like this might be the last time he’ll do it, so he would cherish it while he could. 

Quentin pushed Peter down onto the bed and knelt on the floor himself, grabbing the boy by his hips and pulling his ass to stay right on the edge. He lifted Peter’s legs up and hoisted them over his shoulders, his mouth kissing down his muscular thighs over to his cock, then his balls, then his entrance. Peter was completely hairless. Had he planned this? The idea just made Quentin smirk. His hold onto Peter tightened as he started mouthing against the boy's fleshy inner thighs, a few times daring to put his canines down.

He heard Peter moaning his name out already. That just made him move onto the real deal faster. 

Quentin hadn’t done this before, but he had seen enough porn to know how to work his mouth in different areas. Without hesitation, he started stroking his tongue over Peter’s entrance, up and down, as fast as his tongue could go. He noticed Peter's legs twitch and press closer to each other, but Quentin grabbed onto them and spread his legs so he had more room to work in. Quentin pulled back, collected saliva into his mouth before moving his tongue back over Peter's entrance.

He could feel Peter’s hands reaching for his, almost clawing him. Quentin grabbed onto his wrists and held Peter’s hands down by his sides, still managing to bury his face between Peter’s ass cheeks.  _ ‘Mine, he’s mine’ _ , Quentin kept repeating to himself as his grip on Peter tightened and --

“Quentin, stop, stop it.”

He immediately pulled back, looking over at his boyfriend who seemed a bit paler than before. Something was wrong, but Quentin couldn’t tell what. Isn’t this what Peter had wanted? Quentin blinked strongly. “Did I do something?”

“I called out to you, but you didn’t hear me”, Peter said. “I was trying to say that this position is a bit uncomfortable. And …”

Peter tried to wiggle his hands free from Quentin’s grip, and only then did he realize he was holding onto his wrists a little bit too hard. Quentin let go and watched as Peter sat up and rubbed his wrists like they were hurting. They did seem a little red. “Fuck, I … I’m sorry”, Quentin stuttered, pulling back a little. “I didn’t realize … I was just … I don’t know.”

“Hey, it’s alright”, Peter immediately said and moved his hands to cup Quentin’s cheeks. It wasn’t really alright. But Peter was always too nice. “You stopped when I asked you to stop. Nothing to be sorry about.”

“Okay”, Quentin sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. He had to come back to reality. He wasn’t sure what had happened there and why he hadn’t listened Peter, but he was glad he had realized to stop early. But his mind felt heavy, and he told himself to get a grip and to just focus on Peter. When Quentin lifted his head up to look at his lover, he said: “So … the position was uncomfortable?”

“Yeah. My back is hurting”, Peter giggled. “Can I change?”

Quentin just nodded and stepped back and watched as Peter moved in the middle of the bed, first on his hands and knees with his back turned to Quentin. Then he giggled nervously, obviously feeling shy, before he lowered his head down onto a pillow but kept his ass up. Quentin felt like he was drooling from the view. He stepped onto the bed and ran his hands over Peter’s legs over to his bottom, spreading his cheeks apart, exposing his entrance.

“You could … touch my cock, too, if you can”, Peter mumbled.

“Like this?” Quentin asked, one hand wrapping around his cock and giving it a strong pump. Peter whined, then hummed happily.

“Yeah, like that. And you can do … whatever you want with your mouth.”

Just when Quentin had given his first lick over the boy’s entrance, Peter called out to him, maybe testing if Quentin was still so horny his hearing didn’t work too well. But this time Quentin heard him loud and clear. "Mmh?" Quentin hummed as to show he had heard him. “Go slower. I won’t go anywhere”, Peter said quietly before he closed his eyes and relaxed.

Quentin had promised himself he would do anything for Peter, so he made himself calm down and went slower. With one hand slowly stroking Peter’s hardening cock and one hand holding the boy still, Quentin started experimenting with his tongue, trying out different movements. He stroked his tongue up and down again, then side to side a little, then bit down onto the flesh of Peter’s ass before going back to mouthing against his hole. Slow but steady, Peter’s breathing grew heavier, Quentin’s tongue moved faster, his hand stroked him harder. He enjoyed moving slow and watch Peter get closer to the edge with a damn smile on his face. Every now and then, Quentin would flicker his tongue over the bundle of muscles which made Peter jump and release a little _'Ooh!'_ which Quentin adored. He also really enjoyed rubbing his thumb over the tip of his cock and listen Peter's breathing grow heavier. And when Quentin pushed his tongue inside of him, Peter released a shaky moan and came over the sheets, his legs shaking before his body collapsed onto the bed. He was smiling through it, which made Peter look adorable.

As Quentin pulled back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, Peter had suddenly got up on his knees and turned around, his hands already unbuckling Quentin’s belt. Ah, right. Peter had wanted to suck him off. But Quentin stopped him. “It’s okay, Peter. I’m not even hard.”

Peter just chuckled. “Sounds like a challenge.”

Peter tried to open his belt buckle again, but Quentin gently pulled his hands away and held onto them tightly. “No, it’s fine, I … I’m sorry. I’m not feeling it anymore.”

Quentin sat down on the bed next to him and looked down at his toes. Damn. He had lost his libido the second he had heard Peter say ‘stop it’. Quentin had felt extremely guilty about it for some reason. And now suddenly his mind could only think about one thing - Being caught for doing something as stupid as hurting one of Peter’s friends. Now he was just an anxious mess. He felt bad about it, because the way Peter had described his fantasy had indeed sounded amazing. Maybe one day Quentin could make it come true.

Peter took one of Quentin’s hands and moved his fingers past his, squeezing his hand a few times. “Did I do something?” he asked.

“No”, Quentin immediately protested. He lifted his eyes and forced a smile. “If it’s okay, I’d like to just hold you for the rest of the night and kiss you until our lips bruise.”

He suddenly had a desperate need to hold Peter close to him. Maybe that could make him feel better.

Peter squeezed his hand harder, looked down at the floor while biting onto his lip, then looked back up with the tiniest smile. Peter’s emotions were easy to read, especially when his eyes expressed every feeling he had. Now it was obvious that Peter knew something was wrong, but he wasn’t going to push it. And there was some kind of relief in his eyes - Maybe he was happy to know that Quentin was up for cuddling.

“Alright. If you’re sure”, Peter said. “I’ll take a shower first. Then, we could watch a movie together. How would that sound like?”

“Perfect. I can clean up the sheets while you’re at it”, Quentin chuckled. As Peter walked past him over to the bathroom, he playfully spanked his ass to get the mood back up again so the atmosphere wouldn't be so depressed. He didn’t want to feel sadness or guilt tonight. He just wanted to be close to Peter. And god damn it, the reason Peter was here in the first place is because he felt unsafe. Quentin should be the one supporting him, not the other way around.

As Peter took his shower, Quentin had the time to change the sheets to a set of new ones. When he was carrying the dirty ones into the basket full of other clothes that needed to be washed soon, Peter suggested Quentin should take a shower, too. He surely did need some alone time, just for a few minutes. And Quentin needed to feel fresh again.

Quentin entered the bathroom and locked the door behind him, and Peter was left alone in the apartment. He first dried his hair and body with his towel before stealing Quentin’s clothes again, taking a pair of clean underwear and a grey shirt that was just a little too big on him. Then, Peter hopped into the living room and turned the TV on, going through channels to find something for them to watch.

Suddenly his senses were tingling. His spidey-senses. Peter tingle. Whatever. He turned his head to the left and stared at the door that led inside Quentin’s home office. Peter wasn’t sure why that room was calling for him.

He left the TV on and dropped the remote on the couch as he stepped towards the door and opened it. Unlocked, to his luck.

It was still as empty as before, but somehow more sadder. It was like somebody had died in that room. Peter immediately noticed that on the table there was more stuff than usually - something his curiosity couldn’t ignore. He knew it was wrong to go through somebody else's belongings, but something told Peter to check it out quickly.

He stepped inside the room and first walked over to the chair, grabbing onto the piece of clothing that had been hanging on it. Funny. Peter also had this exact same shirt he had found at the store. He had thought it was funny, and only got it because it was really cheap. Huh, it was the exact same size as his own one. _‘That’s odd’_ , Peter had thought to himself. _‘I thought Quentin was a few sizes bigger than me.’_

He then focused his attention on the table, noticing what a mess it was. He could barely see the wooden surface underneath all these newspapers. Peter started picking them up one by one and laid them down on the chair. Some pages fell on the floor, then small pieces of the paper dropped down, too. It was like somebody had been cutting something out of these papers. 

Underneath those papers Peter finally found a camera, sadly broken somehow. He grabbed it and inspected it harder. It looked like somebody had dropped it on the ground at least ten times. Peter put it back down as to not destroy it further and continued going through the desk.

More newspapers were moved onto the chair until most of them were gone, and then Peter found something odd. Something that made his skin crawl. Pictures. Printed pictures of someone who didn’t know they were being photographed.

“That’s ... _me_ ”, Peter whispered to himself. His shaky hands started moving all over the desk, looking at each photo one at a time. In one photo he was walking down the street. In another one he was at the Daily Bugle, holding someone else’s coffee. One photo wasn’t as good as the others, as it had been taken through a glass, but it showed a clear image of Peter sitting by a desk, inside a classroom. Peter felt like he was sweating.

He audibly gasped as he saw pictures of Spider-Man, swinging into action, waving to his fans or hanging upside down somewhere. And then his fear came true. There was one clear photo of Peter with the suit on, but without the mask covering his identity. Peter swallowed strongly.

His body was shaking even more as his hands threw more photos on the floor to find the ones at the very bottom. In some of them, he wasn’t alone. In this one he was with aunt May at the store. And in that one he was with his friends, just having fun.

In another one there was only MJ, his friend who had just been attacked cruelly by a stranger. 

Peter’s eyes turned back to the camera. His hand reached for it again and he turned the camera to the side a little. His eyes widened as he saw the blood still stuck against it. 

Pieces started locking together. The newspapers were linked to that threatening message Peter had got. The camera was related to an incident involving MJ. Peter's shirt was related to that feeling he had in his own home that he wasn't alone there. The pictures meant that his boyfriend knew about his secret identity.

Peter was in danger.

Before Peter’s sixth sense could warn him properly, a hand grabbed onto his hair tightly, and then his head was smacked down against the desk. Peter gasped in pain and collapsed on the ground, his hands holding onto his head. He kicked his legs around, trying to get back up but he felt dizzy. He has had worse. He was Spider-Man, after all, and there had been many times when Peter had almost died but he had got himself back up. But every attack always hurt twice more when you hadn’t been prepared for it.

Why was his vision so blurry? As Peter opened his eyes, he saw someone standing over him, but it was hard to tell who it was. But Peter had a good idea of who it could be.

“You were never supposed to see that”, a familiar voice said. Peter placed one hand against the floor and tried to hoist himself up. His mind kept telling him to run, _‘run while you still can, get out, get out, get out’ --_

“I’m really sorry.”

A fist hit him against the face, hard. Peter fell on the floor, grunting in pain, but still determined enough to lift his head. Another punch hit him right in the nose, and the back of his head hit the floor hard enough for everything to turn dark.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being really long, but I didn't know how to cut it into two parts. I'm sorry it took me a while to post this, I was d e p r e s s e d and s a d and I'm still not entirely happy about the end result, but I'm also too tired to keep fixing it.

Peter’s head hurt like hell. 

He wasn’t sure how long he had been unconscious, or if he was even awake currently. It felt like the world was spinning around him. His eyes felt heavy. His body felt like it was floating. He was so tired. So, so tired. All Peter wanted to do was to cuddle up against his boyfriend and continue sleeping. But an anxious feeling was taking over his body, alerting him that something wasn't right.

His eyes slowly blinked, opened, tried to focus on the roof, then closed again. It was like his usual Monday morning when his body was against waking up. But this felt much worse. His whole body was fighting back against waking up and telling him to rest, but his mind was constantly telling him to _'get up, get up, get up'._ It felt like Peter had been hit by a train. His muscles were extremely tight and it was difficult to move...

Peter tried to move one of his hands over to his hair, but noticed he wasn’t able to do so. He looked up and forced his eyes to stay open, noticing how his hands were placed above his head. Peter blinked again, and again, until he saw the rope around his wrist, bound together with the bed’s headboard. 

Oh.

_Oh no._

Finally Peter was properly waking up. He tugged and pulled, tried to wiggle out of the ropes, tried to use all of his strength to simply break out of them, but nothing seemed to work. He was tied there so tightly that it was sure to leave strong red marks around his wrists. The more he tried to get free, the more it hurt, the harder the rope pierced against his skin, the more impossible it felt to escape. Peter sobbed. He knew he was strong. He was stronger than others around his age. He was the damn Spider-Man. But he couldn’t break free from the ropes, because his hands were tied far too tightly together. Besides, his strength didn’t lay in his wrists. If the ropes were a bit more loose and not tied against something, he would have an easier time breaking free. He could maybe break the whole headboard if he had to. His legs seemed to be free, so maybe he could --

“You’re awake.”

Peter froze and looked over at the doorway where his lover -- no, his _enemy_ stood. Quentin looked tired with dark circles under his eyes, and his whole body language seemed lazy, powerless, too weak to even stand properly. His hair was a mess, too. It looked like Quentin had been panicking while Peter was unconscious and was now almost too tired to no longer care. 

Quentin Beck looked like a different person.

“If you want, I can give you something for that headache. If you have one. I bet you do. I hit you pretty hard”, Quentin mumbled as he stepped closer to the bed. Peter immediately tried to kick away from him, trying to get himself to sit up but it was hard to move because of the ropes. All he could do was to pull his legs away from the man.

Quentin didn’t seem to notice how freaked out Peter was. He simply just sat down at the edge of the bed, not too far away, only close enough for Peter’s toes to reach him if he wanted to kick him. Quentin was moving slow, talking slow, and he seemed to be in denial on how much of a fucked up situation this was. That's why Peter was so frightened - Had he been dating a sociopath this whole time?

“I didn’t mean for this to happen, Peter”, Quentin’s head fell down and his arms rested heavy over his legs, his fingers locked together, finger nail nervously scratching on his skin until it ripped off the skin and bled. “It just did.”

“But why?” Peter managed to choke out. His eyes dropped down and he saw what he was wearing - The clothes he had stolen from Quentin's closet last night. His shirt and his boxers. Nothing more, nothing less. Peter felt so nude suddenly, and lost his ability to speak. “Why did you … Where did you get the … I don’t …”

“You’re just full of questions, aren’t you?” The tiniest smile engraved over Quentin’s face, then disappeared completely. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell you everything.”

Quentin straightened his back, lifted his head up and rested his hands over his knees. He was calmer than ever. It scared Peter. It was like a whole different person was sitting by the bed, pretending to be his boyfriend. Peter struggled again, tugging at the ropes, flexing his muscles, trying to force his hands apart. All Quentin did was say _‘shh’_ as to try to stop him. Peter didn’t stop.

“People get rope only for two reasons. To tie somebody up, either in the bad way or the fun way ... or to hang themselves. It’s yours to decide why I have tied you up”, Quentin gave him an odd smile. It was the kind of smile he always did, happy and loving, but something else was hidden beneath his gaze. 

“I know why”, Peter retorted. “I found your secret.”

Quentin’s head fell back down. He didn’t say anything, which made the atmosphere just feel ten times heavier than it already was. “Quentin, you gotta tell me everything. Please”, Peter swallowed strongly, his throat starting to feel dry and scratchy. “Have you been stalking me?”

Quentin's thumb nail pierced against his knuckles, not hard enough to bleed, but hard enough to leave a mark that would fade away in a few minutes. He nodded.

"For how long?" Peter asked, inhaling strongly. He was fighting back tears with all of his might. He tried to keep himself calm by breathing steady and biting onto the insides of his cheeks. He had to stay strong.

"Since I followed Spider-Man up to that roof and saw his real face", Quentin mumbled, his voice just barely loud enough to be heard. Peter felt like he was going to freak out, no matter how hard he was fighting against the rising panic. He tugged strongly at the ropes again, cursing the position of his hands that made it hard for him to relax. He tugged again. The bed creaked as an answer.

“If your blood circulation has been cut off for more than two hours, breaking your bonds can become lethally dangerous. I’d suggest you’d stop trying”, Quentin lifted his head up and leaned closer, moving one of his hands to press against the mattress, right next to Peter’s foot. He wanted to kick him so hard Quentin’s hand would break. But what good would that do? So Peter gave up trying to get free and did his best to relax, just so they could talk and he would get some answers to his questions. For a long moment he just thought about all this. He started gathering up signs of Quentin stalking him before, trying to see if it all was right in front of his nose and he somehow didn’t manage to see it.

Then, the pieces started getting together. Peter only now started noticing how weird things had got only after he had met Quentin. Only now did he realize who left that threatening note in his room and called themselves 'Mysterio'. Only now did he realize why he felt like he was being watched constantly. Only now did he realize what had been going on right before his eyes.

“You broke into my room and left that note”, he panted out. “You followed me around. You stole my shirt. You .... You were hiding in my closet when … when me and MJ were in my room. Weren’t you?”

“Good job. How did you figure that out?” Quentin asked. Now he seemed dangerous. No longer was he in that depressive state, but instead he had moved into a much creepier version of himself where he kept leaning closer, giving Peter that odd wide eyed look and that small smile that gave him the creeps.

“That day, I felt like somebody else was in my room”, Peter explained. “I have a --”

“A sixth sense. Spider sense. Whatever. You notice danger before it hits you.” Quentin had been following Peter and his alter ego Spider-Man long enough to know that he wasn’t just a guy dressed up in a red jumpsuit, but actually had spider-like characteristics. “But you didn’t notice me coming behind you soon enough. Why?”

“Because I trusted you”, Peter choked out.

Quentin sighed and stood up from the bed, turning his back to his boyfriend. He wasn’t mentally stable enough to face this yet. He couldn’t look at Peter who was tied to his bed without feeling guilty, horrible, a danger to human kind. But now he had to. Letting Peter go now was too risky. But keeping him here for too long was going to be difficult too, especially when Peter was most likely strong enough to break his bones with only two fingers. Quentin was starting to sweat because he had no idea what steps to take next.

“Your trust was misplaced, then”, Quentin muttered. He walked over to his closet, opened it and reached inside. He pulled out a black tie, most likely the only tie he had. “But don’t worry. You’ll soon understand that all I wanted was to protect you.”

“Protect me?” Peter repeated his words. His eyes widened as he saw Quentin sat by the bed and move the tie closer to his face, over his mouth. “Protect me from what -- Mmhh!”

Quentin’s half-lidded eyes had lost all their emotion as he forced the tie between Peter’s teeth and then wrapped it around his head as tightly as possible. “From her. From everyone. Maybe even from me”, he said and pulled back. And then Quentin stormed out of the room, closing the door.

The tie was so uncomfortable in his mouth. It wouldn’t keep him quiet, though - Peter could maybe push it out with his tongue and then scream, but he wasn’t sure what would happen if he did that. Would anyone really call the cops if they heard a single scream? Would Quentin come in and knock him out? Peter sure as hell didn’t want to be punched again.

Besides, he needed answers to his endless questions.

\---

His arms felt like they were going to fall off the next time Quentin entered the room. Peter had fallen asleep and was now even more confused than before. Was it the next day already? How long has it been since he got knocked out? Time was just a concept to a person who didn’t have a clock to look at.

Quentin had a plate full of food and a glass of water with a plastic straw. It seemed like rice with some kind of brown topping and some colorful vegetables, but the meal didn’t look like something Quentin had made himself, but instead bought ready from the store. He sat down by the edge of the bed, put down the glass and the plate on the nightstand, then reached to remove the tie from Peter's mouth. When his mouth was free, Quentin took the plate into his hand and held the fork in the other hand.

“Are you going to feed me like a baby?” Peter retorted.

“I thought it would be romantic”, Quentin said half-jokingly. He scooped some rice onto the fork then moved it in front of Peter’s lips. His mouth stayed tightly shut. “Don’t be difficult, now. I know you’re hungry. It's not poisoned.”

Peter tilted his head to the side and pressed his mouth against the side of his arm so no fork could suddenly force itself inside of his mouth. “I’ll only eat if you promise to tell me everything.”

Quentin chuckled quietly. “Always so stubborn, darling”, he smiled. “I will answer your questions. As long as you eat.”

He moved the fork back over to his mouth, and after a moment of hesitating, Peter parted his lips and took a bite. He didn’t like the taste too much, but he wasn’t going to complain. Quentin scooped more food onto the fork, moved it inside Peter’s mouth, silently watched him chew before getting ready to feed him more.

“Why did you start stalking me?” Peter asked before swallowing more food down his throat.

“I always liked you, Peter. But finding out you were Spider-Man made me even more curious about you”, Quentin told him. “I wanted to know everything about you. But I couldn’t just ask weird questions, now could I? So I followed you, just to get to know you more, just to look at you more. And I started to like you even more.”

“That’s so creepy”, Peter managed to say before more food came into his mouth.

“If you put it that way, yes. It was creepy”, Quentin admitted. “But all I wanted was to protect you. To love you.”

_‘To love me’_ , Peter thought. His heart skipped a beat just from the L-word. Did Quentin really … No, he shouldn’t be thinking about this right now. The man he loved had him tied to the bed. He was fucking held hostage. He shouldn't be thinking about their relationship right now. Peter knew he couldn’t let his guard down, no matter how much he cared about Quentin. He had to get out of this place.

“You weren’t protecting me, you attacked my friend”, he spat out as an answer. “MJ never did anything bad to you.”

“Wrong. She was all over you”, Quentin left the fork on the plate, refusing to feed Peter as long as this conversation was going on. “She could have taken you from me. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to lose you.”

Quentin suddenly looked so sad, and even Peter couldn’t help but feel remorse for him. He could start seeing right through Quentin - A man who was just in love, but also sick somehow. He needed help, professional help. And Spider-Man always made sure the people who needed it got their help and support.

“You could have trusted me. I wouldn’t cheat on you”, Peter said quietly. He wasn’t sure why, but suddenly he started to feel like crying. He started blinking a lot in hopes of keeping the tears away. “You could have just asked if you wanted to take pictures of me, or if you wanted my shirt, or if you wanted to see my room … You could have asked for anything, and I would have given it to you. I … fuck. You didn’t have to do all this.”

Peter’s throat felt so hoarse and he felt like a ton of hiccups were about to break out. He stared at Quentin with reddish wet eyes and a shaking bottom lip, waiting for his answer. Quentin looked emotionless, but his eyes showed he was sad, too. “I know”, Quentin said quietly. “But it’s too late now, isn’t it?”

It wasn’t too late. Well, maybe a little, but no matter the situation or the problem, Peter Parker always stayed positive. “Quentin --”

“Now shut up and eat. If you don’t eat now, you won’t eat later.”

Peter didn’t see much choice. He went quiet and allowed himself to be fed, and once the plate was empty he drank the water down with the straw, doing it so quickly that he almost choked on it. And then, Quentin was undoing the ropes. “Quentin”, a soft smile came over Peter’s face. A ray of hope came into his vision as he was freed, his hands finally able to lay down and --

Once his hands were free from the headboard, Quentin tied his hands tightly back together, making Peter yelp. “You should use the bathroom”, was the only thing Quentin said before grabbing Peter by his arm and guiding him towards the toilet. Peter didn’t even bother to fight.

Peter’s most embarrassing situation was when he had to give up his Spider-Man suit to Tony Stark after misbehaving, and had to walk back home in these cheap clothes - a large white shirt that read _‘I survived my trip to NYC’_ , paired together with sandals and pink Hello Kitty pajama pants. He had never been that humiliated. Expect now, when he had to piss and shit with his hands tied together while Quentin was in the same room, staring at a wall silently. A few times Peter thought about wearing a diaper so he wouldn’t have to go through this, but that would be much worse.

As they walked back to the bedroom, Peter saw his backpack laying on the couch. He stopped dead on his tracks. That was his escape. Inside his backpack Peter always carried his web shooters, and this time he also had his suit in there too, because before he came here, he had been swinging around as Spider-Man for a short while. He felt Quentin try to pull him towards the bedroom, but Peter fought back. Now he was more motivated to escape than before when his backpack was only a few meters away.

Quentin’s hold onto him tightened, and Peter immediately struggled. And then, he kicked and fought and tried to get away, but Quentin’s arms immediately wrapped around his waist. “Calm the fuck down!” he shouted and lifted Peter in the air. He just kicked his legs around and told to be let go, but Quentin wasn’t as nice as he was before.

Peter tried to do something with his arms, but it was already difficult to use them when they were tied together and his enemy was behind him, already having a strong hold on him. So, Peter threw his head back and hit it hard against … maybe Quentin’s chin? He couldn’t tell. All he could tell that it hurt him, too. Quentin cursed in pain, stepped back a few times as an attempt to get his balance back, and then his hold onto Peter tightened, almost so hard Peter felt like his intestines were being crushed.

“Let me go!” Peter shouted. Now he had that fighter-instinct finally flaming up inside of him, his whole body wanting to escape and get back home where it was safe. He just needed to get free and run to his backpack, but before that he needed to get rid of Quentin’s embrace.

“I said calm down”, Quentin growled at him as he pulled them inside the bedroom. As they got to the bed, Peter was still kicking, even when Quentin collapsed onto the bed, still holding onto Peter, his arms strongly wrapped around his stomach. “Just breathe. Breathe. I’m not letting you go.”

The feeling of Quentin’s body pressed against his almost made Peter calm down. But he always had a little fight left in him. He kicked around until one of Quentin’s legs moved over his, stopping his movement. Then he tried to break free from the ropes, twisting his arms to different directions and simply forcing them apart, but the rope didn’t give up. And when Quentin pulled him closer, constantly telling him to calm down in his calm voice, Peter started to grow tired. 

A sob broke out of him.

“Shh, it’s alright. It’s alright”, Quentin whispered. His hold onto Peter was tight, but it no longer hurt. Instead, it felt desperate, like Quentin seriously didn’t want Peter to leave him.

“It’s not alright”, Peter cried out, burying his face against the sheets. He hated how weak he was. How easily he broke down like this when he should stay strong, keep fighting, and get back home. But all he wanted to do was to just lay there in Quentin’s arms and pretend nothing bad had ever happened.

“It will be alright. I promise”, Quentin said quietly, pressing his forehead against Peter’s back. He pressed himself close, so close that Peter could feel how warm his body was and how his chest pushed out every time he inhaled. Peter found himself relaxing the more he focused on his boyfriend’s breathing. He felt safe, which was really weird considering how he knew Quentin’s dark side now.

“I think this is the first time we have cuddled”, commented Quentin. Peter held in his breath for a moment, then sniffed strongly. “I guess so”, was the only thing he managed to say as an answer.

The sad fact was that Peter wanted Quentin to continue touching him. He wanted to just forget about the evidence he had found and continue living in ignorance, just so he could be peacefully with Quentin. He wanted his hands around him just like this, he wanted to be caressed, and kissed, and touched. Thinking Quentin, or any of his possible future lovers, would never touch him like this again made Peter’s eyes teary. He didn't want to lose his first love.

He tried to push his body back against him. He tried. But Quentin had sighed, got up from the bed and moved to tie Peter’s hands again so he was stuck against the cursed headboard. At least this time he was tied closer to the edge of the bed and not the middle of it, so Peter could continue laying on his side. In this position, his arms weren’t hurting so much and his back muscles could finally relax. 

When Peter was left alone, he cried silently, trying to find a way to fix this, trying to see if there was any possibility for him and Quentin to stay together after all this. But right now everything felt hopeless.

\---

“We had a good thing going until you looked around more than you should’ve. Now look at us.”

Quentin has had a few drinks. He’s sitting by the bed again, head hanging low, posture much worse than before, his whole body tilting towards the floor so much that he might fall down soon. He was a little drunk. And there was nothing Peter could do but watch him ruin himself. He could tell that Quentin was feeling depressed because once it got dark outside, Quentin had closed all the curtains and blinds, and refused to turn the lights on. He didn't want anyone to find out Peter was here. Or maybe he didn't want to be seen at all.

His ropes weren’t as tight as before. He could lay on his side, which was a little awkward since his arms tend to fall right in front of his face, but he could also turn to lay on his back, even if he couldn’t lay down straight. At this point, he was losing his energy to try and wiggle out of the ropes and had learned to accept his fate.

The day had went by so slowly. Peter had been wondering if anyone was looking for him. But he suspected that nobody had yet noticed he had been kidnapped. Aunt May must have texted him, and most likely Quentin had answered back to give them some time. And his friend Ned most likely just thought Peter was still with his boyfriend, so he was ready to lie that Peter was staying with him. Ned had always been a supportive friend. Now his support was biting Peter right in the ass.

“What would have happened if I didn’t look around?” Peter asked. He felt hungry, even if he had been fed more than needed. Quentin had kept him fell fed. Peter also felt so restless since all he has been doing was sleep and lay down on this bed he once called ‘pure Heaven on Earth’. He was constantly changing his position, and now that Quentin was in the same room as him, he desperately wanted to have a conversation. Anything to keep him entertained. “Would you have attacked someone else?”

“If they were a danger to you, yes”, Quentin said. He lifted his head only to take another sip from the can he was holding, only to find it empty. He tossed it away.

“MJ wasn’t a danger to me”, Peter insisted. This time Quentin was too tired to fight back and try to bring his point of view into the light. They had fought about this same issue multiple times now. And Peter was growing hopeless. But he still wanted to believe that there was something good left in his boyfriend. Or was Quentin his ex-boyfriend now? What were they?

“Let me go, Quentin”, he pleaded out.

No reaction.

“ _Please,_ Quentin.”

Quentin tried to drink again, but noticed he wasn’t even holding anything, so he only ended up bringing his knuckle over to his lips, then between his teeth. It looked like Quentin was travelling between different realities and wasn't able to focus on this one. Peter sobbed out as a reaction and turned to lay on his back. God, it was uncomfortable. His back was screaming for mercy. “I won’t tell anyone what happened. I’ll keep your secret”, he said, his voice trembling and shaking and stuttering as tears forced their ways into his eyes. Yet, Peter forced a smile on his face. A smile of a fool. “We can still be together.”

Finally, Quentin turned his head to face him. He looked as tired as Peter felt. He looked dirty, unwashed, depressed. Quentin looked like he was full of regret, but he also looked like he was planning to murder someone. “Your morals are too high to forget something like this”, Quentin said.

Then, he stood up, faltered, and caught his balance again with a curse. “I’ll sleep on the couch”, he mumbled. And then he turned his back to Peter and took one small step towards the doorway.

Peter was breaking down. He sobbed out again, tears now running down his cheeks. “Wait, please”, he called out to him. Quentin stopped and turned around slowly, leaning heavily against the door frame. _‘What’_ , he had said, expect no sound had come out of his mouth, only his lips had moved, like he was growing too tired to even talk.

Peter opened his mouth, but found himself also losing his voice. He closed his mouth and swallowed before trying again. “Can you kiss me goodnight?”

Was it even night? It was dark in the room, the only light coming from the living room and the window. The curtains were closed, too, so it was pitch black. 

Quentin laughed awkwardly. “That’s a very funny joke.”

“No, no, please. I mean it. I mean it”, Peter mumbled. He tried to break away from the ropes, unsure if he would hug or punch Quentin when he would get free. “I need it. Just one last kiss. Please. Please...”

Quentin’s hand had started shaking, his fingers tapping fastly against the side of his thigh. His eyes fell back on the floor, a place he must have been staring at for hours now. He was thinking for a long moment. When Peter quietly breathed out his name did Quentin finally nod and walk back over to the bed.

Peter’s heart started racing as he felt the bed creak when Quentin sat down next to him. Quentin’s hand moved over Peter’s body and landed on the mattress, his body towering over his. Peter almost hated himself for blushing, for imagining that this was just a kinky roleplay they had going on and nothing else. He wished he could just say a safe word and everything would be okay again.

Quentin still looked so handsome, even if it was really dark and he looked like he hadn't been showering for a week. Peter’s eyes stayed on his as Quentin slowly leaned down, then closed his eyes, then pressed their lips together with no emotion or passion. But even a simple, chaste, meaningless kiss like this made Peter feel happy again. _‘Yes’_ , Peter moaned out in his mind. _‘This is the Quentin I like. This is the real him. I want him back.’_

Peter had only one mission now. To bring the real Quentin back. And if he had to do that by kissing him, then he was going to never let their lips part.

He tasted like alcohol. Bitter, musky, a little sweet, yet so strong it made his nose scrunch up. Peter didn’t mind at all. He kissed him back with passion, drawing back a little to catch his breath, then kissing him again so Quentin wouldn’t pull away. Peter was doing his best to kiss Quentin so good that he didn’t want to leave, either.

Quentin’s body leaned down lower as the kiss deepened. He finally seemed to be answering with his lips, truly wanting to get a taste, too. And Peter couldn’t be happier. He wished he could wrap his arms around him, but the sad truth was that his wrists were in so much pain that it felt like he no longer had hands left. Peter didn’t care. He only needed his mouth to show his love. So he parted his lips wider and pushed his tongue out, slowly stroking it against Quentin's like he was asking if 'this was okay'. First, Quentin's tongue didn't really move, but after Peter had hummed a little, Quentin had huffed out heavily and then moved his tongue against Peter's. 

It was nice and quiet for a while. They were messily kissing each other, but kept the slow rhythm through the whole thing. Quentin still felt so emotionless like he wasn't into this at all, while Peter was giving his everything to him. But then, Peter could feel more weight coming on top of him. He could hear the sheets rustling like dry leaves as Quentin climbed on the bed, on top of Peter, one of his legs snaking between his, their torsos pressed against each other. And suddenly it was so hot.

A tear fell down the side of Peter’s face over to his ear. It tickled. He had no idea why he was crying. Were these happy tears? Or tears full of regret? He didn’t have time to think about that, when Quentin pressed his body down harder, kissed him with more passion, more _neediness,_ and moved one of his hands to rest on Peter’s side. His hand grabbed tightly onto Peter’s shirt, tugging at it. Then, Quentin’s hand released the fabric and ran his hand lower. Lower. His hand stopped over Peter’s ass, only covered by a pair of boxers. Peter released a surprised yelp against Quentin’s mouth as a reaction, suddenly feeling so shaky.

Quentin’s fingers massaged down against his round bottom before he lifted Peter’s leg up, guiding it to wrap around him. Peter literally shook underneath him, but happily opened both of his legs, spreading them wider for Quentin. And then suddenly he could feel Quentin grind down, heavily but slowly, groaning into the kiss like an animal who was going through their first heat. A weird sound that was a mix of a sob and a heavy breath escaped from Peter’s mouth, and that’s when Quentin suddenly got afraid and decided to pull back. His eyes were so wide as he stared down at Peter.

“No, I shouldn’t ... I shouldn't do this”, Quentin mumbled as he looked down at his hand, slowly pulling it away from Peter’s ass. Shame took over his face.

“You can, you can”, Peter insisted, biting down onto his lip to fight back against tears. “You can touch me. I want you to. Please.”

Peter was a goddamn mess. He was sad about the whole situation which was the reason he was crying a little, but at the same time his hips had started to grind up against Quentin, trying to show him that it was okay, that he could grind against him, too. Maybe Peter thought that it would be a good idea to have sex now, because maybe that could bring the old sweet loving Quentin back. And they could be together again and forget this all ever happened.

“Peter”, Quentin said. He sounded angry. “Stop.”

He didn’t stop.

“It’s okay, it’s okay”, Peter mumbled, his eyes looking down at their legs. He noticed Quentin lifting his body up as a way to put more distance between them, but Peter only continued to roll his hips up higher, trying to meet them with Quentin's. “I want it. Please, please, just --- Just touch me, it’s okay --”

“I said _no_.”

Quentin had raised his voice high enough to make Peter's whole body jump in surprise. Not only that, his hand had landed over Peter’s throat. Peter had immediately started holding in his breath, his whole body freezing up from fear. Quentin's grip on his neck wasn’t even hard. Quentin had calmly moved his hand over to his neck and rested it there, thumb on one side, the rest of his fingers on the other side. Ready to squeeze real hard. It was a warning, and it scared Peter.

“What if I hurt you, too?” Quentin said quietly, smiling a little. His eyes were teary, too. He seemed lost, unable to control his body or his emotions, and Peter had no idea how to help him.

“You won’t hurt me … Right?”

Quentin shook his head. It was unsure if he was saying _‘no, I would never hurt’,_ or _‘I’m not sure’._

“Why are you doing this to me, Peter? What do you want from me?” Quentin caressed the boy's neck gently before his hand started sliding down over to his chest, then his stomach. Peter just stared right into Quentin’s eyes, not knowing what to say. He found it hard to breathe suddenly.

_‘I don’t know what I want anymore’._

Quentin’s hand ran lower and lower until it was pressed over Peter’s groin, but it stayed there only for a second before Quentin quickly got up from the bed and walked to the doorway. Peter called out after him, right before Quentin disappeared from the room. “Maybe one day you’ll forget about this”, he heard Quentin say before he heard his footsteps lead away.

Peter broke down into tears, sobbing uncomfortably until his cheeks were burning from the tears and his throat hurt. He felt so frustrated that Peter had a whole tantrum and he fought like hell, kicking his legs around, pulling at the ropes, twisting and turning but at the end he gave up, too exhausted to fight. 

He had to make a decision before Quentin would. Being tied to this bed would not do him any good if he couldn’t even lure Quentin in and make him understand that Peter would keep his secret and not tell anyone. So he had to get out of here. He had to leave before Quentin would collect his mind and come up with some kind of a plan. Peter had to escape before it would be too late for him.

\---

“I need you to take this. It’s a muscle relaxer. It will make you sleepy.”

Quentin was all dressed up in the morning. That meant he was going to leave for work and Peter was going to be alone. This was his moment to escape. But Peter didn’t have a plan yet. He hadn’t slept very well through the night, and he knew the moment that pill was going to be forced down his throat, he would fall asleep like a princess, only to be awakened by a kiss.

“How can I know that’s not something that’s gonna kill me?” Peter raised one of his eyebrows.

“You just have to trust me”, was Quentin’s way of persuading him. “I took these on my leg pains. They simply make you relax, which also makes you sleepier. It’s nothing dangerous.”

With a glass in one hand and the pill on the other, Quentin sat down next to the bed and moved the pill closer to Peter’s mouth. “Take it. Please. Just this once. I won’t be gone for long. I’ll be here when you wake up. I'll be coming back here every now and then to make sure you're safe. So please. Take the pill.”

Feeling like he had no choice, Peter opened his mouth and swallowed the pill with some water, hoping that it wouldn’t be as strong as Quentin claimed it to be. He watched as Quentin put the water away and sat down on the bed, staring at him. Oh. Quentin was going to stay here until Peter would surely fall asleep, most likely to make sure he wasn’t going to try and escape the second Quentin was out the door.

They waited silently. It was definitely the most awkward 30 minutes Peter has had in his whole life, but he wasn’t too bothered by it because he was planning his escape the whole time. When he started to actually feel tired, he tried to calculate how long he would be asleep for, and when Quentin would come back home to check on him. Peter went through all options in his head - break the headboard, cut the ropes with his teeth, scream until his lungs give out, slip from the ropes with the help of his spit -, until he suddenly felt so tired that he gave in and fell asleep.

\---

Few hours had passed when Peter woke up again. His arms were killing him and his back muscles were extremely tight. His legs felt weak, too. His whole face felt weirdly dirty and his eyes refused to stay open. But when he finally stepped into reality, he remembered where he was and what might happen. He had to escape while he could.

First, Peter listened for a few minutes. He heard the neighbors walking around, the cars passing by on the street, a dog barking in the distance … But Quentin’s apartment seemed silent. Quentin had left for work, but it was unsure when he was coming back home. Peter was afraid that he would step in any minute now to come and force Peter to take something much stronger that would make him fall asleep again. He needed to avoid that at all costs. So, he wasted no time and started his escape plan.

The ropes were as tight as before. His arms were in pain, his skin already starting to break every time he wiggled as the ropes were rubbing against his wrists. Peter knew he wasn’t going to just slip out of the ropes, so he had to find another way to get out. He turned and changed his position so his feet were facing the headboard, grunting loudly on how uncomfortable the position was getting. He managed to press one foot against the wall, and he used that as a support to start pulling. The damn bed moved. Peter pressed his foot firmly against the headboard instead and continued pulling. The wood cracked. He pulled hard, tugged multiple times, then pulled again, then kicked the headboard. A louder crack came. Peter took a small break to catch his breath before squeezing himself into a ball, managing to move his other feet on the headboard too. He started pulling again, ignoring how his wrists were burning, how his whole body was aching, how --

**_CRACK_ **

Peter flew back and shouted in surprise. He rolled onto the floor with his hands still tied to the piece of wood from the headboard that had broken off. For a moment he just laid on the floor, cursing how the back of his head hurt, but also smiling because he had finally escaped. With a painful grunt, Peter slowly picked himself up on his feet and started heading towards the kitchen.

It had been a while since the last time he walked. His legs felt like jello and his back was aching so much it was hard to keep his spine straight. His hands were almost dragging against the floor, still tied together to the piece of the headboard that was constantly kicking against Peter's legs. But that didn't slow him down. Once Peter got into the kitchen, he had to use all his strength to lift his arms up and reach for the kitchen knife.

Peter found himself crying as he tried to cut the ropes off despite the fact his hands weren’t able to move an inch. He moved to sit on the floor and tried to hold the knife with his feet - Failure. He only ended up cutting himself, breaking the surface of the skin and bleeding a few drops, nothing too dangerous. Peter whined and moved the handle of the knife between his teeth. Then, he did his best to rub the sharp point of the knife against the ropes, moving his head back and forth, so desperate to escape that he ignored how his jaw clenched so tightly it brought tears into his eyes and how every now and then he accidentally poked the knife against his fingers.

Peter wasn’t sure how long he was doing that, but it was working. He ended up holding the knife still between his lips, crying while he did it, and moving his tied hands against the blade until the ropes started giving out. And then they dropped onto the floor, freeing Peter from his prison. He dropped the knife, smiled widely and laughed and cried at the same time. His hands looked like hell. Small bruises had already formed there where the ropes had been and his cuts were burning, but luckily only bleeding lightly. Peter picked himself up on his feet and moved to wash his hands before quickly stumbling over to the living room.

He wasn’t sure why he was limping so much. He hadn't been laying in bed long enough to lose control of his body, but it still felt like he hadn't moved in weeks. Peter sadly didn’t have time to stretch and get his body back in order, so for now he just had to fight through the pain, as he always did. Peter started immediately going through his backpack, feeling lucky that Quentin had been stupid enough to just leave it there and not hide it. That meant Quentin had been sure his plan would work. That also meant that Quentin had some kind of a plan going on, and Peter didn’t want to be a part of it.

Peter first found his phone, still alive to his luck. He checked the most recent messages, noticing Quentin had been texting aunt May and his friend Ned to make sure no one was going to come look for them.

Ned had been told that Peter was safe and that he was planning to stay at his boyfriend’s place for the weekend. Ned had been a good friend and promised to tell everyone Peter was staying at his place instead, since Peter's relationship was still a secret to many. Aunt May had been told the same story multiple times, and despite the fact that May didn’t like Peter being away from home for so long, she had said she was ‘glad Peter was safe and having fun’. If only aunt May knew the truth that Peter has been seeing an older man and was now in big trouble because of it.

Peter immediately texted his aunt and wrote that he was coming home now. If he wouldn’t be able to escape, at least May would be alerted that something was wrong if Peter wasn’t going to come home tonight.

Once he put his phone back, Peter searched through the bag and finally found what he needed for his escape plan - His web shooters. He placed them on his wrists, checked if they worked, then put on his backpack and ---

Just as he was about to head over to the front door and simply walk out of here, he heard the keys unlock it. Peter felt his heart pick up a faster beat and he quickly jumped up, turned around and sticked himself against the ceiling. He quickly and quietly moved over to the kitchen, hoping Quentin wouldn’t come there first. 

Peter pressed himself tightly against the ceiling like an actual spider, holding in his breath and praying his arms wouldn’t give out on him as he listened Quentin walk in. The keys dropped on top of a table. Neither shoes or his jacket were taken off. He watched as Quentin immediately walked over to the bedroom, and once the man’s back was turned towards him, Peter silently dropped down and tip toed over to the kitchen window. He opened it quickly, gritting his teeth as it made a sound, but he ignored it and quickly climbed up.

_“Peter!”_

He only looked back just to see Quentin for the last time. He saw the man running towards him, ready to wrap his arms around Peter and pull him back in, but this time Peter was faster than him. He shot his web towards the roof of the building next to this one, and just before Quentin had entered the kitchen, Peter gave him one last look before swinging away.

Quentin was out of breath when he finally reached the window, watching how his lover jumped onto the roof like it was the easiest thing in the world before disappearing from his sight completely. Quentin leaned out of the window, his whole upper body poking out and almost making him fall down. His hands turned into fists and his whole face turned red, either out of anger or from the cry attack he was about to have.

“I know your identity!” Quentin screamed at the top of his lungs, hoping Peter would hear it because he didn’t know what else to yell at him to try and hoax Peter back into his arms.

But Peter never looked back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter left. What's gonna happen, I wonder?


	10. Chapter 10

It was cold outside.

Peter hoped no one had seen him swinging around. After all, he hadn’t put his suit on, and he wasn’t wearing any pants. He had went from rooftop to rooftop trying to find a good place to rest and put on his suit without the fear of being seen. And without the fear of Quentin suddenly popping up on the same roof as him. Who knows, maybe Quentin was already trying to come after him despite only having his feet to run and no super hero tools.

He had left his clothes at Quentin’s place because he had been in a rush, so the only thing Peter could really do was put on his suit and enter his home through his window. He sighed. For some reason, this time Peter wanted to enter his house through the front door like a normal person and just go hug his aunt. He desperately needed a hug. He needed somebody to hold him, and this time it couldn't be Quentin Beck.

As he was about to put on his mask, Peter ended up staring at the view for long. The sun was still high up. The sky was clear. It was nicely warm. This stupidly cheerful feather did not fit Peter’s mood at all. He collapsed down on his knees and started sobbing, banging his fists down, fighting back the urge to just scream until the whole city was looking at him. Peter felt so lost. He was going through too many emotions that he felt like he was going to explode and turn emotionless. Just like Quentin had.

He held his mask against his chest as he rolled down onto his side, curling up into a tight ball as he continued crying. Peter wondered if Quentin had went through these same emotions. He wondered if Quentin even felt bad about what he had done. And the most of all, Peter wondered if this was the end of their relationship. He didn’t want it to be. He wasn't ready to give up and let go, because he was --

“I love you”, Peter whispered to himself and bursted out into more tears, sobbing like a child who had lost their favorite toy. Saying those words hurt him so much. All he had wanted was to say them out loud, to say them to Quentin, but … But now it was too late. Everything was ruined. He had fallen in love with a man he no longer could have. It felt like death to him.

It took Peter a long, long time before he could get up, put on his mask and continue his way home.

Nobody was home when Peter arrived, so he took his sweet time taking his suit off, hiding it, then taking the rest of his clothes off. He laid the shirt and the boxers on his bed and stared at them for long. They weren’t his clothes, they were Quentin’s. And right now Peter was starting to feel angry at him, so he punched the shirt and then stomped off into the bathroom. In the bathroom, he ended up punching the wall when he had turned on the shower and cold water had hit his skin. He was obviously at such a bad state that he was over-reacting at everything. Now his knuckles were red.

He took a long shower to calm himself down. His wrists burned as the water hit his skin, but at the same time he kind of enjoyed the feeling. Peter ended up staring at his wrists a lot - the skin that had torn off, the cuts that had come from the blade, the small bruising the ropes had created. He traced his fingers over the marks like they were a road on a map that lead him to treasure. He hated that for a second he even admired them, imagining they were a sweet memory of something much better, most likely something sexual. He hated how he was still thinking about that kind of stuff about Quentin. The rest of his shower Peter continued crying, not knowing whether he should hate or love Quentin Beck, his damn stalker who seemed to be going insane.

He got out of the shower, put on some fresh clothes, then laid down on his bed. Quentin’s shirt had found its new purpose as the new pillow case. His underwear had been hidden underneath the mattress for later use when his fantasies wouldn't be enough. Peter hugged onto the pillow and inhaled it strongly. Yes, it did smell like Quentin, just a little. 

Peter’s phone was still on low battery, so he plugged it in while he went to his album and started scrolling through his pictures. He stared at them with lazy eyes, not knowing how to feel. 

He missed Quentin. He really did. And Peter was sure he was in love with the guy. But he also hated him. He hated Quentin for watching him, spying on him, breaking into his apartment, threatening to expose his identity, hurting his friend … The list of everything wrong about Quentin Beck seemed almost never ending. Peter knew he was sick. But he also saw the good in him, and refused to believe that he was all bad and that all hope was lost. But right now Peter felt almost bad enough to consider himself suicidal.

Hours went by and when aunt May finally came home, Peter was still in his bed, sleepy and hungry but too depressed to do anything about those things. He heard May call out for him, but Peter didn’t answer. He just barely managed to look up at May when she entered his room, a worried look painted all over her face. “Peter, are you alright?” she asked as she slowly walked over to the bed. Peter just looked at her, then did the smallest movement of shaking his head. He couldn't lie to her, and he knew that he couldn't pretend to be okay, so what was the point in denying the fact he was feeling really shitty? Aunt May sighed and sat down next to the bed, rubbing Peter’s shoulder.

Then, she noticed his wrists. 

“Oh my God -- Have you been hurting yourself?” she immediately asked. Peter seemed to finally jump back into reality and quickly sat up.

“No, no, it’s not what it looks like”, he tried to explain himself, but May already gave him a look that she didn’t buy that. And Peter didn’t know what to say because he didn’t have any excuses or fake stories to tell. So his head fell down. Aunt May immediately seemed to understand something was wrong.

“Has something happened?” she asked, her hand now rubbing Peter’s knee, just to show she was there for him.

Peter swallowed and licked his lips, already feeling like he was going to cry again despite thinking he had already cried all of his tears away. “I think I just broke up”, he said quietly. May’s eyes opened wider. “You were in a relationship? Oh. I didn’t know.”

Of course she didn’t. How could Peter tell her that he, a 17-year-old teenager, was dating an adult guy he had met at the Daily Bugle? … Fuck, the Daily Bugle. Peter had to call that place and tell them his internship was over. He couldn’t just walk in there and face Quentin like it was normal. That would be stupid and dangerous, and would take a toll on his mental health. He wasn't sure if he could even handle school at the moment.

Peter nodded, then wiped his eyes clean from the incoming tears. He took a deep breath. This was as good time as any. He was hurt, obviously fucked up, and he was about to burst into tears any second now. He couldn’t hold back any secrets anymore, not from his aunt who loved him and did everything for Peter. And right now he was so vulnerable that he needed to get things out of his chest, at least something small so the weight he was carrying would be less heavy.

“I like boys.”

Aunt May’s mouth opened, then closed. Then she smiled. “I felt like you did, honey”, she said and rubbed Peter’s knee again, still too afraid to come closer and rub his shoulder, or even hug him. “It’s okay if you do. As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”

“But that’s the thing”, Peter said. “I’m not happy.”

“Oh, Peter …”

Peter had started sobbing again, and that’s when May decided to move to sit closer. Peter’s arms were immediately around her and he cried against her shirt, trying to focus on the feeling of her hands caressing his back and her voice telling him to breathe. It reminded Peter of Quentin. He started to feel better, but he also cried more. Thinking about Quentin was a comfort for him, but at the same time it felt like he was being stabbed over and over again.

“I really like this guy … But I don’t think we can be together anymore”, Peter whimpered out, holding onto his only family for dear life.

“Did he hurt you?” was aunt May’s first reaction. Peter strongly shook his head, then cried because he hated the fact he couldn’t tell anyone the whole story.

“I think he’s ill, May”, Peter mumbled. “I think he knows he isn’t well, too. But I … I miss him so much. And I don’t know what to do.”

Peter buried his face against her shirt again as a sign he wasn’t able to tell her much more than that. May sighed deeply and rested her chin on top of Peter’s hair, continuing to gently shush him and rub his back. “What’s his name?” she asked, probably to distract Peter from the issue that was bothering him.

“Quentin”, he answered. Saying his name made his throat hurt.

“Has he been good to you?” May asked. Peter swallowed. “He has. But lately things haven’t been going too good.”

May pulled away from their embrace and laid her hand over Peter’s shoulder, her other hand wiping away his tears and lifting his chin up. “Listen. Sometimes two people are meant to be together, but they have simply met each other at a bad time”, she said quietly. “Whatever … Quentin is going through will pass. Do you think he needs help with his problem?”

Peter simply nodded. “I can’t help him”, he added.

“And you’re not supposed to.”

“But I’m his boyfriend --”

Aunt May smiled at him and ran her hand through his hair before moving both of her hands over Peter’s cheeks. “Just because he sees you as his savior, doesn’t mean you’re supposed to actually save him. Maybe you’re not meant to. Maybe Quentin needs to fix this one himself.”

Peter blinked strongly, then swallowed as another tear fell down. May immediately wiped it away with her thumb. “I think it’s the best you two break up and take your time to heal and fix whatever the problem is between you two. And when the time is right again, then … maybe, who knows, you and this Quentin can be happy again.”

Peter didn’t know he could be both sad and happy about this answer. But he did agree with May. Even Peter knew that he was the kind of person who always wanted to help others, but he never dared to give time for himself, to think what he needed. Maybe now Peter had to act a little selfish, just this once. He licked his lips and inhaled strongly. “I really like him. And I think he really likes me too”, Peter said quietly.

May smiled. “Then I’m sure he likes you enough to wait for you to come back to him.”

Peter managed to smile too, unsure if it was a genuine smile or something he forced himself to wear. He moved in to hug his aunt again and the two of them shared a loving embrace that lasted for two long minutes, before May pulled back. “I heard your stomach growl. I’ll make us some dinner.”

“Okay”, Peter said.

“Heartbreaks happen all the time, Peter. And it will take time to heal. But in the end, love is always the best medicine. Doesn't matter where it comes from. So don't shut yourself out, okay?”, May said before she slowly stood up and walked out of the room, going to prepare them some dinner. Peter stayed in his bed, hugging onto the pillow covered with Quentin’s shirt, smelling it as he memorized everything May had said. And suddenly, everything started to seem clear again.

\--

_Two weeks later_

“Guys, I have something to tell you”, Peter said, jumping around with excitement. “I think I’m bisexual.”

“I think we all knew that already, Peter. I literally saw you kiss a guy once”, MJ said in a cocky tone before drinking the last drops of water from her plastic bottle. Betty gave her a judging look.

“Oh, c’mon. I wanted to come out of the closet to you guys. This is special for me. I wanted you all to be happy for me.”

“We are happy”, Ned said, wrapping his arm over Peter’s shoulders and pulling him close. “But we also feel sad you and Quentin broke up.”

“Yeah, what happened? I heard he was a great guy!” Betty asked curiously.

This was the first time they actually talked about Peter’s big break up. For a whole week Peter had been too depressed to talk, and all three of his friends had easily figured out what had happened. But none of them knew the details yet. Peter had only told them that it was over, and that he didn’t want to talk about it. So far, his friends had respected his wishes and stayed quiet about the subject, but now it had popped back up again, and it was no surprise they all wanted to know why someone as handsome as Peter Parker was single again.

“I don’t want to talk about it”, he reminded Betty again, who tried to give him the puppy eyes. She was definitely the only one who was curious enough to keep asking about the issue. She was already opening her mouth to ask something again, before she was interrupted.

“Look, fuck that guy, okay? Let’s just go and eat, and have some fun”, MJ said, trying to turn the conversation around. She had a small scar hidden underneath her hair, and Peter couldn’t help but glance at it every now and then. He felt like it was his fault MJ got hurt. But at least MJ seemed to embrace her scar, even calling it 'pretty cool' sometimes. To each of their own.

“Food sounds good”, Ned said, before starting to suggest different kind of places they could go to. He was walking in front of the line and everyone else followed him, Peter coming in last.

The streets were busy, as they always were. Cars passed by them at a quick speed, people surrounded them and bumped against them multiple times, and sometimes the sound of the city was so loud that the school kids barely heard what they were saying to each other. Peter liked moments like these the most. He liked it when he was with his friends outside, having so much fun he wasn’t able to think what had happened before. He hadn’t seen Quentin in two weeks, after all. A part of him was afraid something had happened to him. Another part of him told him to not go looking for Quentin.

But one small instinct of his told him to stop walking and look on the other side of the road. Peter froze when past the moving cars and all the people, he saw the man he had been avoiding for fourteen days. Quentin Beck. He was just standing there, hands deep in his pockets, hood over his head, and sunglasses hiding his eyes instead of his usual glasses. He looked like he had been following Peter again and had just stopped walking, too. Peter swallowed immediately. He was glad to know Quentin was alive, and he did regret for not trying to fix the problem between them. But he had to leave, and he had taken his time to collect himself and making himself ready to meet Quentin. He still wasn’t sure if he was ready to face this.

They both stared at each other, their eyes never looking anywhere else expect the other one’s eyes, no matter how many cars blocked their view or how many people pumped into them and told them to 'watch it'. Peter suddenly felt extremely anxious. How long had Quentin been stalking him after the last time they saw each other? Was he that addicted to it that he couldn’t stop and give Peter some space? And most importantly, what did Quentin have planned now?

Quentin pulled his hand out of his pocket and revealed to be holding his phone. He first held it up in the air, shaking it a little before he looked down at the screen and started pressing down with his fingers. Peter felt his heart skip a beat, and he quickly opened his phone and went to look at his contact list. It had been a surprise Quentin hadn’t send him a ton of texts, begging him to come back or threatening him. He had been quiet for two whole weeks. But now when Peter looked at their old message conversation, he saw the little text telling him that Quentin was typing.

“Peter!” he heard his friend call out for him from afar. Peter ignored it. His eyes were glued onto the screen, every now and then looking up to see if Quentin was really there, so close yet so far. And finally, a message popped up on his screen.

**_Quentin_ **

_Can we talk? Alone._

Peter felt like he was about to faint. He wasn’t ready to talk. In fact, he didn’t know if he could trust Quentin. He couldn’t know if Quentin had realized what he had done was bad and something to be fixed, or if he had fallen only deeper and had gone … insane. Peter didn’t want to think that would have happened. Whatever it was, he actually didn't want to see Quentin. But he felt like he didn't have much of a choice.

He turned to face Ned when he had jogged over to him, asking what the problem was. And when Peter looked back on the other side of the road, Quentin was no longer there. He had disappeared just like that, like he had never even been there.

“Peter?” Ned called out to him again. “Earth to Peter. Hellooo? You’re freaking your friends out. Are you alright?”

“... Yeah”, Peter said, turning to look at his friend. “Everything’s okay.”

“Then get a move on. Please?”

As they continued walking, Peter’s fingers were quickly typing a message, sweating like hell after every letter he pressed down.

  
  


_The rooftop of your building. Tonight at midnight._

  
  


_\---_

  


Peter stared at himself in the mirror as he wore his suit. Red, blue, black. Spider on the chest. Weird eyes that often scared people. Fabric quite tight against his skin. A hero inspired by a bug that people wanted to kill the second they saw one in their apartment. This was the hero Peter Parker had become. And despite the fact he had fought against bigger enemies than the usual robbers, he was now facing the biggest challenge of his career. A simple man with simple needs and an obsessive behavior.

He still had one hour left before it would be midnight. Well enough time to prepare what he was going to do. Peter hoped they would just talk about what had happened in a calm way, but since he was wearing his suit, he was also expecting for a fight. He was ready for anything, despite not feeling like it.

Instead of planning on what he was going to say, or think what he actually wanted with Quentin, Peter spend a good time laying on his bed, cuddling his pillow, smelling Quentin’s shirt. He had told himself that no matter what would happen, he would keep Quentin’s shirt as a memory. And in return Quentin can keep everything he has of Peter.

Time went on slowly, yet when it was time for Peter to leave, it felt like he had only been hugging his pillow for a minute. Aunt May was fast asleep, so he was safe to leave through the window and head into the night with his backpack on. He didn’t know why he took it. It was mostly empty, expect for his notebook he carried to every class and his phone. He felt like he might need those tonight more than he would need any of his weapons.

It took him only ten minutes to reach the building Quentin lived in and only a second to swing onto the rooftop they were supposed to meet in. It felt like a battlefield, for some reason. On the roof there was nowhere to hide, nowhere to go, only the door that would lead you back to the stairs that would take you inside. Peter stared at the door, waiting patiently for Quentin to come.

He wasn’t sure if it was exactly midnight when the door finally cracked open and Quentin stepped out, looking so different than before. He had started to grow out his beard, expect it wasn’t much to see since it had been only a few weeks since the last time he had shaved it. His hair was messy under the hood, and once again his hands were deep in his pockets. In the dark, he looked more depressed than ever, and at the same time scary like he was the serial killer from a shitty horror movie.

Quentin stared at him for long and closed the door behind him before slowly walking towards him. Peter didn’t move an inch. He stood there with a calm posture, not preparing himself for a fight because he hoped they didn’t have to have one.

“Why are you wearing that suit?” Quentin asked and stopped a few meters away from him, leaving a good amount of distance between them. “Are you that scared of me?”

“I don’t know”, Peter answered truthfully. “Maybe I am.”

Quentin glared at him. “I came here to meet Peter.”

Somehow those words hurt him more than bullets ever could. Peter hesitated for a while before he looked around cautiously, making sure it was dark enough outside and that nobody was looking. Well, who would be staring up at a random rooftop at this time of night, anyway? So, Peter slowly unmasked himself and without any care in the world, he dropped the only thing hiding his identity on the ground. Him dropping his mask down was almost like him putting down a gun to show he was ready to negotiate in peace and not fight.

“Here I am”, Peter said, taking only one step towards Quentin. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I want you to come back”, Quentin said straight-forward. It was difficult to tell if that was simply a request that came from the bottom of his heart, or a threat. “I want you to come back into my life.”

Peter turned his hand into a tight fist and wished he would have kept the mask on to hide his face. He knew that at some point tonight, whether the two of them will fight or just talk, his eyes will be covered in tears. And he didn't want Quentin to see him cry again. “I don’t know if I can do that after what you did.”

“Peter, I … I’m sorry! But everything I did was to try and protect you!” he screamed back at Peter, taking a threatening step closer. “All I did was _love_ you.”

“No, no, you … There’s something wrong with you, Quentin”, Peter said, slowly taking off his backpack and moving it in front of his torso. He slowly opened the zipper. “You need to realize yourself that you need help, because in the end, you're the only one who can help you.”

Quentin’s eyes watched him in silence as he pulled out something from his backpack. “What are you doing?” he said as Peter dropped the backpack and started walking towards Quentin, holding his phone and some kind of a notebook. Peter stopped a few feet away from him and threw the notebook by Quentin’s feet like he was too scared to come closer and simply hand it over to him.

“Read it”, he ordered. Quentin slowly picked up the book and opened it. It was notes from class, things Peter had scribbled down while the teacher had been talking. School stuff Quentin had already forgotten about from his own school years. “I don’t understand”, Quentin first muttered as he flipped through the pages, quickly reading bits and pieces of the text before moving on. Peter told him to just ‘wait’, and that ‘there would be something that would catch his eye’. And after maybe 15 pages of Peter’s dedicated notes, there was something written down at the corner of the paper. 

Quentin read it out loud: “I can’t stop thinking about him.” And that was it. A simple little sentence with a tiny heart drawn out at the end. Quentin moved to another page. Now there was a larger heart with their initials written inside of it, PP + QB. As he skipped a few pages, he found more and more of Peter’s little notes about his boyfriend, little confessions and dirty secrets. A small diary hidden between the pages of a school notebook.

“I’ve been … writing about you in class like a teenage girl”, Peter said, rubbing the tip of his shoe against the ground. “And … there’s more.”

Quentin closed the notebook and watched as Peter opened his phone and then showed him something. Once again he didn’t quite understand what he was seeing first. On the phone screen there was a picture of him, and when Peter swiped right, there was another picture of him. And another one. And another one. There were multiple pictures of Quentin Beck just minding his own business and not realizing someone was photographing him. In some pictures he was drinking coffee, typing away with his computer, or looking down at his camera. Other pictures were much more interesting. They looked like they had been taken from somewhere high, like … a rooftop. And they were just simple pictures of Quentin crossing the street or talking on his phone. Quentin started to lock the pieces together.

“If you wanna call this stalking then so be it. But I also took pictures of you. And I took it further and sometimes followed you around as Spider-Man”, Peter confessed, his bottom lip quivering. “This is what you do when you’re so in love with someone that you don’t know how to act like yourself anymore.”

Quentin looked away from the photos, then turned to look at the notebook again. “You’re like me”, he said quietly. And just for a moment, Quentin Beck didn’t feel like he was a bad person. For a moment, he felt like that he hadn’t done anything wrong, and that his boyfriend finally understood his point of view - That Quentin was just very protective over him. But then, Peter shook his head strongly. 

“We’re not the same”, he spat out. “You took it too far, Quentin, okay? It’s not okay to break into my home, threaten to reveal my identity, to attack my friends, to kidnap me … It’s not right. Do you see that? Okay, I'm fine with you following me around but all the stuff I just mentioned? That's ... just wrong.”

Quentin dropped Peter’s notebook on the ground and took a few shaky steps back. Peter laid his phone on top of the book and started to slowly walk after Quentin, every now and then looking back at his belongings - his mask, his backpack, his phone and notebook - as if he was afraid they would suddenly disappear with the wind. “Quentin. We can still fix this. I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but … you need professional help. There's nothing wrong with admitting it.”

Quentin shook his head strongly. “No, no. I’m completely fine”, he insisted, still backing away slowly. “I had good intentions, Peter. I wish you could just see how much I love you.”

Peter rubbed his eyes, trying to keep himself strong. Now he was finally realizing how bad the situation had went. It was all clear now - Quentin was obsessed with him. Even if the two of them hadn’t been dating for that long, Quentin was so needy for him that he would do anything for Peter. But things were now going too far and Peter was afraid someone would seriously get hurt simply because somebody loved him too much. And he wasn't going to be responsible for another innocent death.

Peter swallowed nervously as he gathered up the courage to say his next words. “Quentin, we should break up”, he blurted out quickly, shaking in his spot. Peter didn’t want to break up, but he knew they had to. Maybe putting some distance between them would make Quentin realize how bad this all was.

Putting some distance between the two of them was the opposite of what Quentin had in mind. He growled like a wolf before suddenly running towards Peter, and most likely out of anger, he moved his right fist up and went for a strike. This time Peter’s reflexes were at their best shape and he dodged the punch, still in quite shock that Quentin would try to punch him.

“You gotta call down and listen to me --”

Peter’s words were cut off because Quentin was fast to attack him again, this time getting his hands on him. Quentin’s hands had landed near his throat and he had started squeezing and pushing. Peter stumbled back and kicked Quentin in the stomach with both of his feet, but the man's grip didn’t even falter. In fact, when the air left Quentin’s lungs, he launched forward, pushing Peter down on the ground and moving on top of him.

“No, you need to listen”, he gritted his teeth together as he laid one hand over Peter’s throat, just like last time. No squeeze, no pressure, just something to keep him down on the ground where he wanted him to be. That's all he needed to do to make Peter freeze in his spot. “I know I fucked up, but … I can fix this. We can fix this. You gotta trust me. Don’t you trust me?”

“I do”, Peter said quietly. “But whatever is wrong with you is … it’s getting worse, Quentin. And I feel like I’m the one making you like this.”

Peter was going to stand tall and hold onto his opinion, his choice on what their future would hold. And Quentin would just have to deal with whether he actually agreed to breaking up or not. 

Whatever was going through in Quentin’s head was getting worse, and Peter couldn’t deny it anymore. First it started with stalking, then moved to breaking into houses, then it turned into abusive behavior. Peter was afraid that the longer they were together, the more protective Quentin would become over him. And he was afraid that one day the situation would be so bad that Quentin would pick fights with anyone who even talked to Peter. He needed to get control of his emotions, and he needed to do that without Peter.

Quentin’s eyes closed and his head fell down as he tried to progress what Peter had said. For a while he didn’t say anything, just listened their breathing sync up, the sound of the sleeping city and the few cars honking at each other down on the road. Then, Quentin’s hand moved down from his neck over to his chest, almost right on top of where his heart was.

“I wanted to be a part of your life, Peter. I wanted to be a part of _this_ ”, he pointed a finger over the logo of a spider on his chest, tracing the outlines of it. Peter held in his breath, then sighed strongly. He didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t understand.

Quentin released a sad sounding chuckle. “I wanted to be with you all the time, to protect you, to … to be the hero _you_ needed to save you. And I couldn’t do that”, he continued, suddenly losing his anger and becoming a mixture of happy and sad - His eyes were getting teary, yet, he was smiling.

Quentin slowly sat up and looked down at Peter with melancholic eyes, his hands moving to rub his knees. He chuckled again and shook his head like a dirty thought had crossed his mind. Maybe it had. Peter could admit that his legs had spread out since Quentin had forced himself to stay between them --- _‘No, stop it’_ , Peter told himself. _‘I need to keep my head straight. I can’t give in so easily. Stop lusting after his love. Let. It. Go.’_

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I .. I don’t know what to fucking do”, Quentin said quietly, his hands now squeezing harder onto Peter’s knees. Now Peter’s eyes were getting watery too, because all he wanted to do was to kiss Quentin, hold onto him, maybe do something more in this damn rooftop because doing it in his suit has always been a fantasy of his … But Peter knew that wouldn’t fix the problem. And he knew that despite how much it hurt, he was doing the right thing.

“I don’t mean to hurt you this much. I don’t mean to hurt anybody. I just want you”, Quentin continued.

Peter lifted his upper body up to his elbows. “Do you … Do you have any mental illnesses running in your family?” he blurted out like an idiot. He didn’t know what else to say. He wasn’t a professional so he couldn’t tell what was wrong with his boyfriend. He had no idea what made him like this. He didn't know how to help him.

“Not that I think of”, Quentin said quietly before rolling to Peter’s left side, sitting down with a loud sigh. He pulled off his hood and rested his head low, his knees pulled tightly against his chest. Peter sat up next to him, mirroring his position.

“You’re right. You’re always right. I’m a fucking wreck”, Quentin desperately tried to laugh it off, but when he saw Peter’s serious look, he figured humor wasn’t going to fix this. So he immediately stopped and looked away up at the night sky, starting to count the stars. “Something’s happening to me, Peter. And I don’t know what it is. All I know is that I have never in my life felt so strongly towards another person.”

“I hear you”, Peter said quietly. “Quentin, I … I really do like you. That’s why I’m trying to do what’s the best for you, for us. And I honestly think that having a break from this relationship would do us more good than harm.”

Quentin’s head fell down again as he tapped his foot against the ground. “... For how long?” he asked.

“I don’t know”, Peter shrugged. “Long enough for you to heal and seek professional help, and for me to heal from this.”

Quentin chuckled like he had heard a joke from somebody he hated with all of his guts. “You seriously think we can actually have a happy ending?”

“I’m not sure”, Peter admitted. He secretly inched a little closer to Quentin. “But I dream about it.”

“Tell me more about your dreams”, Quentin said. And suddenly his arm wrapped around Peter, first staying there as a ghostly touch like he was afraid of hurting him again. But Peter moved in closer and rested his head on his shoulder, and Quentin felt like it was okay to hold onto him tighter. So, he pulled the boy closer, focusing on pressing every part of his arm against his body.

Peter smiled softly, then quickly bit down onto his bottom lip. “I dream about us getting back together when we are both ready for it, falling in love all over again, focusing on our boundaries and stuff … I think we could be really happy together.”

Quentin tilted his head to the side and rubbed his cheek against Peter’s hair. He sniffed. “Can’t we do that now?”

Peter felt a tear drop down from his eye and he shook his head strongly. He suddenly couldn’t talk. And luckily Quentin understood and didn’t pressure on the issue further. “Then, can we at least pretend this is our last date? Just so we have something good to look back to?”

Peter sniffed, then coughed a little when he felt like crying so bad that it felt like a lump was stuck in his throat, making talking and even breathing an extremely difficult task. “I’d like that”, he said quietly, giving Quentin a quick glance before turning his eyes up to the sky.

For a long time, the night sky didn’t change above them, and it felt like the time had stopped just so the two of them could enjoy their last memory together.

\---

_3 months later_

  


For some reason Quentin was amazed how his whole life fit into a few boxes that weren’t even that heavy to carry. But he was never the kind of person who needed physical belongings to feel complete. He didn’t collect anything, nor did he enjoy decorating his house. He kept his place nice, clean and simple and only hold onto possessions he needed in his every day life. Maybe his clean, simple apartment was some kind of a mask to conceal the darkness and the dirt hidden inside of him. Or whatever. Maybe Quentin was just a little boring and nothing else.

He had checked his apartment countless of times already, now feeling sure he had taken everything he needed with him and had tossed away all the things he wouldn’t need in his new apartment. He was going to leave the couch here because that beast was too heavy to take with him. He had already broken down his bed into pieces and was going to sleep on the mattress tonight before all of his belongings, his life, would be transported to a different location the first thing in the morning. Quentin tried to see moving as a good thing. He got to start all over, and maybe this time he would put more time into decorating his home. Maybe having a nicer place to live in could cheer him up a little.

He taped one of the last cardboard boxes shut when he heard a sudden knock on the window. He wasn’t surprised to see Spider-Man there, sticking against a wall, waiting patiently to get in. Quentin smiled a little and walked over to open the window, letting his old friend in.

“You’re moving away?” Peter asked as he climbed in, looking around the apartment for the last time. They hadn’t shared that many memories there - and one of them was a memory worth forgetting about -, but Peter still felt sad he was not going to see this apartment the way it was before. Now his time there was simply a memory he swore to never forget.

“You said it yourself. We should put some distance between each other. I thought this would be the best way for me to do so”, Quentin said, leaning against the wall by the window with his hands in his pockets. He had planned to leave quietly and simply text Peter a good bye message, but now he was glad Peter had come to drop by. He watched as Peter - no, he had his whole suit on -, Spider-Man walked around all the boxes, tracing his fingers over them, reading the labels Quentin had written over them. Clothes, sheets, kitchen, photos, then no text at all.

“You think you can’t control yourself if we are in the same city?” Spider-Man chuckled. Quentin wished he could see his smile.

“Yeah, I guess you can put it that way”, he admitted. “Knowing you’d be so close to me, I’d just come to see you whenever I could. So I think living in a whole different city might keep me away from stalking you.”

“That’s good”, Spider-Man said quietly. He moved around the living room in extremely slow steps, looking around every corner like he was taking pictures with his eyes. When he turned to face his ex-boyfriend again, he tied his hands behind his back. “Are you seeing anybody now?”

Quentin gave him a surprised look. “I haven’t stopped loving you yet.”

Peter blushed underneath his mask and immediately got flustered. “Oh, no, I meant .. A therapist. Are you seeing… a therapist?” he quickly explained, rubbing the back of his neck. Quentin laughed at him. “Yeah, I am. Haven’t had an appointment yet, but after I’m done moving into my new apartment, I’ll get to meet her. Let’s hope she’ll be good”, he answered. With a soft kick, Quentin pulled himself away from the wall and slowly walked over to the hero of New York, his hands firmly staying in his pockets. Loving Peter was like being addicted to smoking - If he didn’t keep his hands deep in his pockets or busy somehow else, his hands would reach for the thing that was damaging him.

“So … Where are you moving? And what about your job? Are you gonna get a new job somewhere else?” Spider-Man asked, standing up on his toes for a few seconds before relaxing back down.

“You’re full of questions again”, Quentin smiled. “I won’t tell you, Peter. I have a feeling that if I tell you where I’ll be next, you would only come to find me.”

Peter looked down at the floor. “Would that be so bad?”

After a quick lick on his lips, Quentin moved his hand to rest behind Peter’s neck. He was so close to blurting out his new address, already imagining a situation where he would come home and just see Peter there, waiting for him like they were a married couple. And it would be completely normal. But with a quick bite onto his tongue, he held himself back. “Yes. But maybe someday you can come for a visit. When I'm ready for it”, he said instead before pulling his hand back.

“I’ll be waiting for your invitation”, Spider-Man said as an answer. His eyes were glued on Quentin’s hand that had just touched his neck, and Quentin could tell the kid wanted the hand back on his body. 

The space between them had grown weird, awkward, uncomfortable. And both of them weren’t surprised why. But they had gotten along surprisingly well after their little fight on the rooftop. Peter Parker had been there for him the whole ride, supporting Quentin when he had broken down, sending him lists of crisis phone numbers, then suggesting him places where it was free to go and talk to someone if the situation was so bad he couldn’t wait any longer. Other than that, they hadn’t talked that much to each other, only checking in every now and then and asking how the situation was. No more sexting, sweet messages or cute little pet names. Now they had grown to be a pair of strangers who were still stuck in their past. Nothing would be the same as before.

“Hey, Peter”, Quentin said to get the boy’s attention again. “Can I see your face? Just for the last time.”

Peter seemed to hesitate for a long moment because he just quietly stared at him. But then he slowly moved to pull of his mask and laid it on top of one of the boxes. He quickly ran his hand through his hair, ruffled it a little bit before meeting Quentin’s gaze with a pair of shy-looking eyes. Quentin smiled at him. Peter was as pretty as he was before, expect now he looked a little bit more mature. He couldn’t help but move his hands to cup his face, his thumbs stroking over his cheekbones. 

“As handsome as I remembered you to be”, he said with a sad smile before leaning in to press a kiss against Peter’s forehead. Peter’s smile grew so wide his teeth were visible and his cheeks turned all red and chubby. “You’re handsome, too”, he said, staring back into the man’s eyes.

They looked at each other for a long moment, long enough for their smiles to fade away and their expressions turn into more sad ones as they both remembered this was their good bye. Peter was the first one who looked like he was about to cry, and he was also the first one to move into a hug. Quentin released a quiet surprised gasp, first just looking down at the kid, feeling how tightly he was holding onto him. Hell, he was going to miss this feeling. As his hands wrapped around Peter and pulled him even closer, he started to memorize how their embrace felt, how warm it was, how tightly they were pushed against each other, and how comforting it felt when somebody was holding onto you that tightly like their life depended on it. Quentin closed his eyes and smelled Peter’s hair. Shampoo, very strong kind, but no idea what its flavor was. His hair was soft as silk, too. Quentin rubbed his face against his hair, while Peter buried his face against the side of his neck. Yes, he was going to memorize this feeling and never forget it.

“I’m going to miss holding you like this”, Quentin whispered, one of his hands running up and down Peter’s back. “Hell, I’m going to miss you, kiddo.”

“I’m gonna miss you too, Quentin”, Peter said, rubbing his nose against his jawline before pulling back. “But we’ll meet again, remember? This won’t be the last time we see each other. I promise.”

“I sure hope so”, Quentin said, feeling Peter just for a moment longer before the boy pulled back away from him and put his mask back on. He then headed back over to the window like he was suddenly in a rush and climbed onto the edge of it. Quentin watched silently with sadness buried behind his eyes, forcing himself to not go after him. His heart ached so badly he felt like he might die.

“I’ll see you around”, Peter said, and then he shot some of his web somewhere up and swung away. And then he was no longer there.

Quentin swallowed strongly, placing his hands over his hips before releasing a strong sob. He then quickly wiped his eyes, trying to catch air back into his lungs. _‘It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. You’re fine’,_ he kept telling himself. But the pain didn’t stop. And he knew it wouldn’t stop for a long while.

He only stood there for a minute, holding back his tears before he heard a knock on the window again. When he looked there, he first didn’t see anybody and thought he had just imagined the knock, but then he saw Spider-Man lower himself down so Quentin could see him. Peter was hanging upside down, one hand holding onto his web, one hand free, and who knows where his legs where. Quentin never understood how Peter could stay upside down like that so easily.

He walked over to the window and peeked out of it, holding his hands onto the board to keep his balance. “Back so soon?” he said in a cocky tone, earning a small chuckle from the hero.

“Actually, I forgot something”, Peter said. His free hand moved over to his mask and he lifted it up again, but this time he stopped halfway, only revealing his mouth. Quentin stared at him, then at his lips, and then he couldn’t help but nervously chuckle. 

“You literally make me crazy, Spider-boy”, he said before reaching out with one of his hands, placing it on Peter’s cheek and pulling him closer until their lips met. And it was a hungry, desperate kiss, something they both had been yearning for since the last time. Quentin could feel how eagerly Peter was kissing him back which caused his chin to knock against Quentin’s cheek, and sometimes their teeth clacked together, but they both just smiled it off and continued. Quentin’s other hand moved over to Peter’s other cheek, holding onto him like he was his lifeline - And in a way, Peter was his lifeline. He was still his everything.

Peter had always wanted to do this with someone, even if hanging upside down hurt his head and turned his whole face red. But kissing Quentin like this had always been his dream, and he was glad to mark it off from his 'to do' - list. When he had kissed Quentin long enough for his lips to bruise, he pulled back and revealed the wide grin he had been holding back. Quentin seemed as happy as he was, judging from his smile.

“Promise me you will behave”, Quentin joked, moving to rest his elbows against the window board as he lovingly gazed at Spider-Man.

“I should be saying that to you”, Peter laughed. He reached his arm out and stroked his fingers over Quentin’s cheek before he pulled himself up, soon disappearing onto a rooftop and then moving onto another one, feeling confident that his secret was safe with Quentin Beck, and that the two of them would meet again.

Quentin silently watched as Spider-Man swung away, smiling until his silhouette disappeared in the distance. He stayed by the window for a moment, his fingers stroking his lips before he turned around with a chuckle. Quentin was in such a cheerful mood that when he passed all the moving boxes, he accidentally collided against the pile of them and knocked down a few boxes, luckily only one of them opening and spilling it insides on the floor. Quentin leaned down, straightened the box and started putting his belongings back inside of it. He straightened all the pictures of Peter he had, then folded his shirt again after giving it a strong inhale. His old camera had broken down even more, but without a care in the world he put his camera and the broken piece back into the box, telling himself he would deal with it in his new home, deciding he would maybe fix it and continue photography as a hobby.

The last thing he had dropped was a simple notebook so old that the pages kept falling out. He opened it and started placing the pages back inside of it, giving a few seconds to look at each one of them. Quentin wasn’t that good with engineering or creating machines, but he was quite proud of his sketches and plans for his new invention. He had written a note for himself to hire a team who would be better at handling technology this advanced, and he knew exactly where to find people like that - Stark Industries, for example.

He grinned as he looked at the sketch he had made of himself wearing a suit with a large cape and a round helmet that would hide his identity. He hadn’t decided on the colors yet, but he had always liked how green and purple worked together, even if it was an odd combination. 

Quentin put his notebook back into the box and taped it shut again, still grinning at himself. He was smiling because he had kissed Peter once more, but he was also cheerful about his future plans. Once the box was shut, he tapped on the top of it and gazed out of the window.

“You’ll see what I have planned, Peter. I can’t wait to see your reaction”, Quentin spoke to himself, his eyebrows furrowing but his grin never disappearing.

He now understood why people were so obsessed by Spider-Man. He was a hero, someone who brought peace and hope to the city, and to the whole world. People believed in Spider-Man. But Quentin was the only one who believed in much more than the mask - He believed in the face hidden beneath it. He believed in Peter Parker. And that’s why he believed he deserved to love Peter, and to be loved by him. This world had never been to his liking, because nobody ever looked beneath the surface. The only good thing he saw in it was Peter Parker, a hero, a lover. And now, Quentin had found a way to stay close to him until one of them would die. 

“People need to believe in something. And nowadays, they’ll believe anything”, Quentin spoke again.

His hand turned into a tight fist.

“Just like you did, Spider-Man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super happy how this fic turned out to be, and I feel super sad to end it, but I'm also excited to start something new in the future. I want to give a big thanks to everyone who read this far and a huge shout out to each and every comment that inspired me to continue writing this. Thank you for all the support!! Love you all ! <3


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